For the Love of the Childe
by ebonyflamez
Summary: WIP... Angel becomes human after 'The Trial' but he won't stay that way for long...
1. A Recap Over Tea and Crumpets

A/N Set during 'The Trial' Season 2 - goes AU from the point when Angel gets staked. All recognisable BTVS & ATS characters beong to the God that is Joss and Mutant Enemy. Any others are products of my overactive and at the moment overtired imagination. Some of the speech may also be recognised - again not my work of genius but as the saying goes if it ain't broke don't fix it - and I can't improve on what went before!

Angel stared at the stakes. For the first time in almost 280 years he was truly vulnerable. The manacles that held both his wrists and feet in place – splaying him out in the shape of St Andrew's cross, ensuring that no part of his body would escape the unforgiving wood – were really beginning to chafe. Not only did Angel feel vulnerable but he also felt afraid, tired and sore and desperate. Desperate for Darla, desperate to escape the pain and desperate for the bloody butler to say or do something – anything! Tired of the games, he grit his teeth and growled out, "What are you waiting for?"

"For you, sir. I can't proceed without your permission. You've earned a choice. Accept your death so she may live or..."

How the hell could he be so fucking calm? Barely able to suppress his rage – which was rapidly overcoming all other feelings - Angel couldn't contain the "Or what!" that left his mouth. It was perhaps fortuitous that "Jeeves" continued on in his haughty, omnipotent bastard voice (that brought back fond memories of killing sprees at society parties in England) before Angel really got the chance to educate him on the truly colourful paintings that could be made with words. Seriously – lesser men had retched, vomited and even fainted at the images that Angelus' depraved mind could conjure, and no matter what anyone chose to believe Angel knew he was just Angelus with a moral compass that had done an impressive 180. He had to respect the guy (with the pre-requisite side helping of pure, unadulterated odium, of course), he was being thrown some really hell-freezing death glares and they had not so much as registered on his radar.

"Leave. Refuse the challenge and walk away. No one will stop you. Our doors are all open to you. You've done that yourself." 'Was he serious!'

"What about Darla?"  
"Oh, she dies."

'Fuck that!' "No deal."

Angel was a champion. He saved lives; he saved fucking _souls_; he did not leave people to die – especially not those he loved. Darla may have made him a monster, she may have killed thousands of people, abandoned him when he really needed her but she had been a huge part of his unlife, a defining factor… as much as Buffy, his father, Cordy, Wes or Gunn could claim to be. She needed him and he wasn't leaving her. She'd died, paid her debt. She was now human and deserved a chance. The Powers could screw with his life, he deserved that, expected it but he drew the line when it came to messing with his family.

"I expected as much. A pity. I'm beginning to like you." 'Doth mine ears deceive me or was that sincerity?'

"Spare me." 'I know you won't, and really I don't think that I want you to. There is a weird kinda justice in the fact that I can give back to Darla the life she gave me. Like coming home, full circle. Although we have come a long way from a dirty alley in Galway.'

"I'd very much like to." 'He steps closer. He's thinking about something. You can tell because he moved, broke the stoic automaton impersonation that he had been so successfully pulling off. God, people think that I have limited expressions!' "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" 'Can I call it?'

"Isn't the world a better place with you in it? You can save so many people. It seems - she can barely save herself."

'It's what I do – "Help the hopeless" – no matter what.' Angel didn't answer. He sensed that Jeeves isn't really asking Angel about his motives but more trying to comprehend what he must view a pointless sacrifice. He may look human but he quite clearly isn't. If he was Angel doubts that he would need an explaination - he would settle on love and wouldn't be far wrong.

"You know better than anyone the world can be a very bad place. Take yourself out, put her in - how long will it be before she stumbles, before she falls?"  
"I don't know." 'But it doesn't matter.'  
"No - you don't. Are you still ready to give her life when she can promise you - nothing?"

'Of course I am. If the Powers can trust me - the worst vampire to ever walk the Earth - with the responsibilty and honour of being a Champion, then I could trust Darla to give her life a go.'

Angel looked him straight in the eye, he needed that connection. This strange unaffected creature was going to be the last thing he saw. In almost three centuries of passion and no other word could possibly describe his existence, the last thing that he would see would be a totally detached figure. Liam, Angelus, Angel – all creatures that shared one thing (despite their appearance) _passion_. Loving, killing, fucking, fighting, existing… all done with passion. Even at his lowest moment when the guilt threatened to overwhelm him, he still had passion. Especially when it was aimed at hating himself. He'd never thought about how he was going to die but he always assumed that there would be passion – even if it was only from the thing that killed him. Locking gazes with Jeeves he gives the only answer his heart, mind and soul would allow…

"Yes."

The answer was cold and clinical, just as he'd expected. "As you wish."

'Wishing has very little to do with it. What I wish for I will never get. Bye guys…'

"Do it."

'…Take care…'


	2. Ghosts in Human Form

A/N A piece of trivia that is kind of appropriate for later in the chapter: The claddagh ring is named after a fishing village and suburb of Galway. Guess where our hero is from… internet search engines can be fact filled fun!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything yet... my plans to take over Mutant Enemy have fallen through so all the ATS and BTVS characters still belong to the god that is Joss.

Please read and review - feedback is so welcome. Some angst ahead, but bear with me.

If at any point in its history, the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel had truly been haunted then it was on this day. The only difference was that now the ghosts were actually sat on the freaking sofa. The fact that they were quite obviously corporeal did nothing to dispel the fear that these two figures were merely shades of that which had gone before. Cordelia was worried. They hadn't spoken one word or moved one inch since they had returned. They looked as if they had just stared into the mouth of hell and been invited for tea and cookies by the Devil himself – although this being Hell A that was entirely possible. Usually she would have been on the edge of her seat or threatening a serious amount of Queen C attitude in order to find out what the hell had happened. This time though, she really didn't think that she wanted to know. Scrap worried she was moving into the territory of big, stinky fear and her Chanel perfume was doing nothing to cover the fumes. For what must be the thousandth time in the eternity that had been the 47 minutes and 23… 24 seconds since they returned she cast an unnoticed glance – ok full on stare – at the pair on the sofa.

Darla. Cordy had to give the gal props on her fashion sense and deportment, Darla sure knew that immortality (ok mortality) was no excuse for lapses in hygiene and style. Right now though Cordy doubted that the best stylist in LA could bring this girl back to life. Physically she was unharmed but she seemed shocked out of her mind. She seemed to be mumbling something under her breath although Cordy couldn't for the life of her tell what she was saying but whatever it was it was on a repetitive loop. .Her hair was lank and fell over her face covering most of her emotions, but she had obviously been crying and Cordy actually respected the fact that she hadn't been bothered to reapply. That told Cordy that whatever had gone down had profoundly affected the ex-vamp and she wasn't afraid to show it. When she had caught sight of Darla's eyes they had seemed dead and she doubted they had sparked back to life. Her hands, folded so neatly in her lap were shaking, so badly that Darla had given up on trying to sip the water and the following whisky that Lorne had brought out. She just sat there and seemed so much smaller than the brassy vampire that Cordelia had known her to be.

Angel was an entirely different matter. It was like he wasn't there at all. There was no reaction at all. At least Darla made the effort to jump when a paper clip hit the floor. He was badly burned on his face and his hands seemed to have taken an acid bath. He was limping badly and there was obviously damage to his ribs as he winced whenever he had to move. But apart from the occasional grunt of pain there was no other sign that Angel was in the room – just a body wracked in pain

Wes and Gunn seemed on edge, so much so that they couldn't sit still. Gunn had polished every weapon in the cabinet and was on his second round with his special axe. Wes flittered from sorting the books to polishing his glasses to making endless pots of tea. Lorne was perched uncomfortably on the other couch and was downing Sea breezes like the world was running out of grapefruit juice. Cordy ran her file over her nails for the fifth time – if someone didn't speak to she was gonna…

"I passed the Trials."

Angel's voice, quiet and raw as it was as it was, had the effect of an atomic bomb. Only thing was, the radioactivity was an unknown and potentially apocalyptic in nature.

"Trials?" Wesley hesitated, he was not sure if he wanted to know what said trials were and what the obvious cost had been. "Angel, what information can you give us about these trials, I'm afraid it would be over optimistic to describe Lorne's information pertaining to them as, well, information."

"Yeah bro'. He just turned up here and said you'd come over all mediaeval on us. What is with you this year? First jousts, now trials – next it'll be Princess Cordelia and you saving a damsel from slavery or some other whacked out mission. I thought we were livin' it up the good old 20th century?"

"Charles, you should have learned by now that the forces of darkness are not 'down with the times'. They may appear at anytime and manifest in any way that…"

"Guys! Quit it! Angel's trying to tell us something. Can ya just quit your bitching for three seconds? Jeez!" Cordy had been watching Angel closely. Had it been anyone else they may not have noticed the minute muscle contractions all over Angel's body that signalled the onset of major brood session and that meant that Cordy was not going to get the answer that she wanted. That meant that she would either stay here all night and fret or go home and fret and although Dennis was good with a loofah there was only so much de-stressing that a ghost could accomplish. Oh and she was also really worried about her vampire. He hadn't even brooded over 'Little Miss Slays A lot' (or 'Lays A lot' – if the rumours were to be believed) this much. It was down right freaky. She glanced over at Angel and saw that he was twisting round that ring he always wore the one with the heart, she thought it was some kind of Irish thing a clannagh… no claddagh ring! When she'd asked where he'd got it; he'd just said an old friend had given him a piece of home. Cryptic much! She noted that Darla was watching the fingers that were playing with the ring in such a loving way. Cordy also noticed that Darla looked pissed. Before she could examine this Angel's melancholic, whisky tones started up again. Everyone seemed to sense that whatever Angel had to say was going to affect them all.

"There were three. The first one was easy in a sense. Kill the demon and keep his body parts from reattaching themselves. The second – gee that was fun – had to run down a corridor totally created of crosses. Got to the end and the fucking door was locked. The key just happened to be in a font of holy water – deep joy! The third test was the easiest though."

Here he paused and his head drops. His usually perfectly coiffed spikes were flattened and surprisingly long. They created short bangs round his face that made him seem so vulnerable. Briefly he glanced at Darla. No one could work out whether he was searching for permission to continue or reassuring her of something. Angel hesitantly reached out and when Darla withdrew from him he moved from his spot on the couch, wincing with each movement, and kneeled in front of her. For the first time Cordelia gets a good look at her face and her heart shatters. Darla looks utterly destroyed and lost – so far from the sadistic killer and weaver of Angel's dreams and nightmares. Angel raised a raw and blistered hand, untreated and obviously painful, and brushed her cheek before gently but firmly holding her in place and locking their gazes. What he has to say is obviously more for Darla than anyone else.

"To be able to give Darla a new life, they had to get the cosmic scales to balance. Nothing comes for free in this world. So I died."

There was a moment where there was nothing but silence and then all hell broke loose. Everyone started talking at once, mainly expressing the same opinions yet their deliveries are quite varied. It was perhaps a blessing that they drown each other out as Angel imagined that the language coming from all of them would make even Liam blush. Wes seemed to be doing most of the cursing, seemingly having a varied spectrum ranging from the reticent "Bloody Hell" to "Fucking Jesus Christ on a three legged goat". One voice however broke through the cacophony. Darla… and she is hysterical. After 150 odd years of it Angel knows that it is duck and cover time. Yet he can't seem to summon the will to bother defending himself. Despite the lack of strength, her grief and horror at the night's events (not to mention what she has been through with WR&H) are making her a forced to be reckoned with.

Palms, nails, fists, feet all beat down upon him and he doesn't lift a finger to stop her. She's chanting the same litany that she had started in Jeeves' banquet hall, although it has been added to over the past hour. Tears streamed down her face and her voice is thick with tears and rage.

"You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. Oh God the wall. So many sharp points. You're dead! You're dead! You've fucking left me! You don't leave me! I'm you're Sire. You're dead! So many stakes. Dust everywhere – blowing in the wind… YOU'RE DEAD!"

Her litany continued for what seems like seconds and eternities at the same time. He could feel fresh cuts opening on his face and he misses the smell that should be there. That coppery and nutty aroma that he knows to be himself. The scent that he has surrounded himself in for almost a quarter of a millennia. He misses the rush that comes with the aroma and the arousal that comes from the pain. All he feels is the pain. This is so wrong.

Then Lorne is pressing a damp cloth to his face and Cordy is gently rocking Darla as if she were a child. Wes and Gunn are stood off to the side, the look of horror on their faces as they realise what Darla s saying that Angel had to go through. Cordy had joined Darla in crying and even Lorne had tears in his eyes. But all Angel can think about is the fact that he had lost everything that he was. With his human senses he is totally cut off from the world, he can't tell how everyone is coping by listening to their heart beats or whether Gunn and Wes are crying by smelling their tears. Its like a blanket has been thrown over the world and he hates it. The irony of the situation hits him like a juggernaut. A few months ago he was pushing himself to fulfil his destiny and gain his humanity; it was all he thought about. Now he felt robbed. He had never realised what he'd be giving up, how much he relied upon his instincts, how he'd totally defined himself by the fact that he was a vampire. In actual fact he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted this. He thought that Darla had been begging to be turned because she couldn't cope with her soul, how foolish of him. The soul hadn't even been part of the equation. She couldn't cope with the mortality of the situation, never mind the morality.

He was rudely awakened form his thoughts by laughter. Cordy was laughing. Why the hell was she laughing? Didn't she realise what he had lost? Didn't she care? How could she…

"Ow! Cordelia watch the… need to breathe here… Let go goddamit!"

"Sorry Angel, its just – you're human! You're alive, and healthy (relatively speaking) and you're not a vampire anymore. Angelus is gone and you're free Angel. You're free!" Her laughter continued and Wes, Gunn and Lorne joined in the festivities. He couldn't. The smile he forced on his features was as painful as his thigh. He wasn't Angelus, Angelus is gone and… its so quiet in his head. 'Oh I'm insane! I'm missing Angelus'. He glanced at the now calm Darla. From the small smile that she gave him, she was aware of what he was going through. What he heard next chilled him to the bone…

"We have to call Sunnydale!"

'Oh God… Buffy…'


	3. To the Penis Mobile! Away!

Chapter 3 – "To the Penis Mobile! Away!"

"I come baring donuts. Hey guys, G-man, Bleached Blunder! What's happening? Any big nasties on the horizon?"

"Xander, how many times do I have to ask you to not call me by that infernal name? But as to the 'big nasty' situation… There have been reports that Keffler demon is currently residing somewhere in the vicinity of the Hellmouth. Kefflers are quite fascinating really. They…"

"Umm Giles, not meaning to be rude but umm could you kinda hurry it on up? Riley and I have reservations at that swanky new Italian and I am really looking forward to getting a chance to have a normal date that does not include a brief jaunt round the cemetery."

Giles glanced at his Slayer. Once again he was forced to remember that she was unwilling to give up on a normal life, he admired her determination. "Yes, quite. Kefflers are particularly violent. They are very strong and the spikes on their tail are filed with venom that induces full body paralysis. It also says here… wait…hmm that's interesting…"

"What is it Giles?"

"I bet that he's reading about the fact that Keffers have the largest penis of any human-demon hybrid."

The silence that followed that comment was deafening.

"Ok didn't need that visual. Xand, control your girlfriend better! Hey Giles, are these Keffy things about you're height, red-brown, spikes a darker red?"

"Yes Buffy, I believe that that would be a relatively accurate description yes."

"She left out the penis."

"Ahn! Remember, suitable topics of conversation."

"I was just saying that the penis is a defining feature of the demon. It was totally relevant to the situation. It's not like I was talking about you're penis – which is also pleasantly sized."

"AHN!"

"So Shags actually has balls? Well I'll be damned!"

"Shut it Fangless!"

"Hey! Giles that demon is officially dodo-d. Riley and I got it last night. Anything else or can I get going. I need to get showered and changed and I want to look pretty for Riley. Kinda been neglecting him lately and I wanna treat him."

"Ooh will there be naughty outfits involved? Xander likes it when I dress in this little…"

"ANYA! Private issues, private!"

Before anyone could comment further on Anya's taste in topics of conversation the shrill tones of the telephone sounded through the shop. Being the closest, well apart from Anya who was unwilling to abandon her position by the money, Willow answered the phone.

"Hello, Magic Box… Hey Cordelia, how's everything with you guys? … Is that Wesley? ... Tell him that he can't really sing… What? All of us? But what about… Ok, Ok… When? … I'll check…" she turned to the occupants of the shop. "Cordy wants to know whether we can go to L.A. for a few days. Apparently they have something that they really need to tell us."

Buffy felt herself go cold. Something was wrong with Angel. She could feel it. Tuning back into the conversation she heard Willow say, "…they'll put us up, Angel owns a hotel. Everyone is invited – even Spike."

"So, Peaches wants a visit from his favourite grandchilde eh? Think I could spare the time."

"Well, as it seems there are no portents of doom on the horizon I'd say that this is as good a time as any for a sojourn to L.A."

"Buffy?"

"is Angel ok?"

"Cordy sounds happy so I'm going to go with yeah."

"ok we'll go then."

"Don't you need Captain Cardboard's permission?"

"Don't start Spike – I haven't got a good slay in today and I'm feeling antsy."

"What? The soldier not getting the job done? I thought all of him was wooden. Looks like I was mistaken."

"Spike!"

"Umm people? Cordy is still on the phone. What's our verdict?"

Buffy took the phone from Willow's outstretched hand. "Cordelia, we'll be there tomorrow evening. Have you enough room for all of us? … Angel doesn't mind? … Ok, see you then." She put the phone back on its cradle. "Looks like we're off to LA."

* * *

By the time Riley's jeep and 'The Penis mobile' (as Giles' car had affectionately been dubbed) pulled up in front of the impressive façade of the Hyperion hotel, Giles was ready to find out how much pain a vampire's body could withstand. It would make an excellent topic for one of his Watcher's abstracts. He also was quite sure that he had found a willing peroxide volunteer. Angel may also have to be involved as a 'Thank You' for presenting this opportunity for some quality time with the undead menace. For the past two and a half hours Spike had chattered non-stop. He'd sung along with the 'music' (although Giles had to admit that the Pink Floyd numbers were quite welcomed), smoked incessantly and bounced around in his seat. Giles was becoming convinced that Spike had some form of attention deficit disorder; he had far too much energy. He actually pitied Angelus and Drusilla for having to cope with the blonde for extended periods of time.

Speaking of Angel, Giles was confused by Spike's reaction to the invite. He'd expected Spike to bluster and swagger about having to go, yet Spike had been the first to agree to go and had wanted to leave since the Magic Box had opened that morning. Spike seemed excited to be going to see the creature he claimed to detest. He was beginning to think that he would never understand vampires. Just when he was convinced that they were irredeemable creatures that needed wiping off the face of the earth he met Angel and then Spike. Now he was just confused. He was, however, sure that had Spike travelled with Buffy and Riley he may have been travelling in a dust buster.

Riley was not happy to have been "summoned" (as he put it) to LA by Buffy's ex. Had Buffy herself not been adamant on coming Riley would not have been here. Giles understood that Riley felt threatened by the knowledge of Buffy's ex and that he naturally hated vampires, but he couldn't help feel that Riley was far too fixated on Angel. His coming may have been a bad idea. Giles was proud of the fact that Angel was mature enough to invite Riley – if all the times he had saved her life weren't, this was proof that the souled vampire did care very deeply for Buffy. He hoped that both of them would behave for her sake and that she had the sense to be mature about the situation and not use one to make the other jealous.

He was quite curious as to what they had been called to LA for. He was ashamed to say that he had been rather amiss as to keeping up to date with these people who had once been friends. He had only really contacted them for help, never realising that they were fighting the exact same battle. He hoped that this weekend would mean a thaw in the relations between the two groups.

Riley was fuming. 'That goddamn son of a bitch! Did he think that if he snapped his fingers Buffy would come running back? Obviously he's got her well trained, because look here she is and she's already panting. Wasn't it bad enough that he was expected to put up with Spike? Now he had another to deal with! How could these people work with such things? Didn't they realise they were just animals?'

He decided that he was going to make it his mission that he would break the spell that these creatures had on Buffy and they would finally be rid of them. Dusting Spike was also part of the plan. He'd just have to remember to hold his tongue around Buffy – he didn't want her getting all stubborn and pigheadedly defend the vamps.

Buffy was worried, she knew that something was wrong, she just couldn't tell what. She was also nervous. She hadn't seen Angel since the Faith debacle and that had been months ago. Their make-up had not exactly been all that warm and heart felt either. 'God, get a grip Summers. It's Angel. Angel who'll always love you, because Angel doesn't change. This time there are no nasty surprises in there. No other women. You are just going to go in their and have fun with Angel, Wesley and Cordelia – Oh God this is going to be hell! At least I have Riley. Riley's here, I have my boyfriend with me and alls well. Right. Pep talk over. Move your ass Summers and get in that building. Oh and remember to ask Angel how the hell he gets such cool apartments!'

The other Scoobies were thinking along the same lines. Dreading the inevitable Angel/Buffy/Riley triangle, getting ready for the vamps to have some sort of smack down, fearing Queen C's sharp tongue and dying of curiosity as to what was going on. However, one thought was much more pressing. "How is it that DeadBoy can get all these cool places?"

"I dunno Xand, Oz said that Angel kinda had a bat-cave type apartment last time. Now he has this beautiful hotel."

"Will, I think I see a pattern here. In Sunnydale he had a bat cave then the Mansion – looks like this is his mansion."

"I'd say that it seems that Angel had lots of money. Do you think that he may be willing to part with some?"

"Umm Anya… I.. I th…think that it m…might be rude to ask for money. Pp..perhaps he'll set up an account at the Magic Box."

"That would be most useful."

"Do you think that Cordelia has changed?"

"She seems to have Xan, but you never know."

"Just remember that I am your girlfriend know Xander Harris and if you try or she tries to get the two of you back together – I'll not be happy."

"I'm not going to try to get Cordelia back Sweetie, I love you. Just promise me that you won't go drooling over DeadBoy like all the women I love do."

"Yes Angel is very pleasing to look at."

'You have no idea pet, not one bloody clue.' Spike turned as he heard Slutty's demand that they move it along inside. As he passed through the doors of the Hyperion he felt as though he had come home.


	4. A Valediction of Forbidden Mourning

Chapter 4 – Valediction of Forbidden Mourning

"Hiding?"

Angel glanced up and took in the figure that stood in the doorway of his room. Petite, blonde, grey eyes and immaculate dress sense, that was his Darla. Thing was, the girl at the door wasn't his Darla and Angel couldn't help but fear that she never would be again. It wasn't that she was human and now healthy, ready to live a "normal" life (whatever that was); it was that she seemed frail. To Angel, Darla had always been fire. She was passion, destruction, consuming and alive – so alive that she would swallow you whole. No she was more than that. She was… God. She had made him, shaped him, loved him and killed him. Angelus may have been the cock of their little family but Darla was no hen. If anything she was the fox – but she had been content to let Angelus play. When she had demanded, he had submitted, despite the fact that he could take her through sheer strength and size if he needed. Truth was he'd never wanted to.

Throughout his entire existence the creature now known as Angel had searched for approval and love. Funny thing, Darla's first lesson to her childe was one of his most defining moments; he could still picture his home – sister dead by the door, ma in the hall and his father up against the wall. Each body still cooling and not yet smelling of death – blood but not death. A simple tableau of destruction. The perfect setting to destroy the vampire who was Liam and create the monster that was Angelus. Darla had been so calm and assured and her words scared him more than the fires of Hell ever did.

"What we once were informs all that we have become. The same love will infect our hearts – even if they no longer beat. Simple death won't change that."

Love. The next 140 years had been about love – more accurately about denying it and all other emotions. Yet at the same time craving, with a blood lust so strong that the entirety of Europe, Asia and parts of Africa had felt, the need to be loved, to have that approval. Darla had given it to him but the threat that it could leave held him tighter than any manacles and chains could have. He looked for it from his victims – the fear when they saw what he was or the pain they felt when he ran the sharp metal down their previously unbroken skin. He craved it in the power he held over those that desired him and hated themselves for it. Rape had never been a torment that Angelus had inflicted on anyone. He preferred that they desire him, knowing what he was and what he had done and taking them willingly, so that later they would hate themselves for giving that part to the dark angel, who'd fed just enough that they knew what he was. The self-loathing that came from that act destroyed souls much more effectively than any rape could have. He'd sought it in his Childer making them love him, using ever method at his disposal – from blood, seduction and sex to simple praise and condemnation. Of course he hurt them – they were vampires pain was part of the deal – but the playing was much more rewarding.

Now he looked at his creator and found that she was flawed. The fire, the strength seemed lost and Angel feared that he would never see it again.

"Petrified."

It was true. He had to face some of the people he'd hurt the most and tell them that he'd been… what? Rewarded? Forgiven? Condemned? He'd hurt them all so much just because they had given the demon what he'd wanted – love – and then failed to keep it going when the soul had gone. They had loved the soul and the shell but not the crunchy demon centre. That he couldn't handle.

"Worried that your beloved Buffy won't leap into your arms?"

No matter how frail she looked, how hollow or scared she felt, Darla refused to allow that weakness in. She attacked before she was attacked and now it seemed to be destroying her.

"Scared that I don't want her to."

He could see the wheels turning and the questions forming before he finished speaking. Angel knew that the best way to help Darla now was honesty – not the mind games that she expected and thrived upon. Brutal honesty that would force past the defences and let her take them down. So he answered her before she asked, motioning for her to join him on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know who I am. In the past 52 hours my entire world has been … God; I'm so lost that I don't know what I am trying to say." He paused and then started again. "For 27 years I was Liam O'Donnell, only son and heir to Padraig O'Donnell; town rake, scoundrel, thief, whore… Then I was Angelus – the demon with the face of an angel. Childe of Darla, GrandChilde of the Master of the Order of Aurelius. For 145 years I was the most feared vampire walking the Earth, the Scourge of Europe. Nothing that was in anyway living or animated was safe. Then for 102 years I was the myth, 'The Vampire with a Soul', the cursed one, the abomination of his kind. Eventually, I was feared again, the Slayer's pet vampire or the Guardian of the City of Angels, Champion to the Powers That Be. Now… I'm a human who would give any self respecting schizophrenic a run for their money. Who the hell am I? Which of those three is the real me?"

At some point during his rant Darla had taken his hand. That in itself was nothing, what scared him was the soothing stroking that she was performing. That one act told him he wasn't alone. So grateful he squeezed her hand and looked at her face. The poker mask had slipped and the raw emotion on her face told him more than any soliloquy could have. He owed it to her to continue, hoping that his cathartic purge may help soothe her.

"Everyone seems convinced that Angel and Angelus are two different entities. I'm not convinced they are. Sure the morality of the two is as opposite as black and white but me – I think I'm the grey. You were right, for Angelus to be as deviant as he was, to revel as he did some part of Liam must have been so dark or else weak and open to the demon's suggestion. So open that suggestion became an art. Yet if that's true then the same must be said for the soul. Unless the gypsy's created an entirely new one just to punish me, some part of Liam must have been so good that it could smother the true nature of a vampire. But I'm not them and I can't be Liam. Its 247 years too late for that.

"And now they're going to come here and expect me to tell them what's happening. And I don't know and I'm scared and so pissed at the Powers That Screw You that I don't know what to say. Do I smile and rejoice or mourn the loss of a Champion? How the fuck do I look at people I tried to destroy and tell them this? I feel cheated 'cos I am so lost and nothing's clear. Before I had a name or classification – demon, souled, champion, Scourge! I needed it and relied on it and now? Now that's gone, and I'm not sure that I'm still here."

So caught up in his rant and trying to find an explanation, Angel lost track of everything but his train of thought. He didn't notice the tears that slowly ran down his face, or the matching tracks on Darla's cheeks. Nor did he notice the small strangled sobs she occasionally gave or the fact that she was now gripping his hand in an effort to hang on to the world that was collapsing around her. Her Darling Boy was coming undone. If he failed to notice all that, then he was completely oblivious to the watcher in the doorway.

Wesley felt his heart break a thousand times over during Angel's frantic search for truth and identity. They had all failed to consider the mental effects being human would have on their vampire. They had thought that he would be elated and was distraught to discover that the ancient soul he had looked upon as an unwavering pillar of wisdom and strength was now a frightened boy a long way from home. Before he could move to offer comfort, Darla turned Angel's head towards her and brushed a feather light kiss on his lips, then eyes, forehead and lips again. Not removing her hands from his face she spoke and revealed a totally new creature to Wesley.

"I can't even remember my birth name, and there is no one left to tell me. But my boy, my darling boy, I can tell you one thing, I need you. Before you I was alone, no true companion and until I had you I didn't know that. Then I lost you. We've found each other this time and it's so different. You cared. For the first time in my life someone cared about me, someone truly loved me with the sincerity that can only come through friendship – not blood or passion. Whatever comes Angel, I won't betray that. I'll live the life you gave me and I'll learn to enjoy it."

For a while nothing was said. All that was heard was the occasional whimper of a soul in pain. More tears fell and arms wrapped round a small figure pulling it closure to a solid chest.

"I won't leave you. Whatever they say, I can't. We'll get each other through this Darla. I won't leave you; I need you now and you need me. We'll fight each others demons for awhile."

"My boy, I'm not going anywhere."

Wes left them to grieve, grieve for what they had lost, what they had gained and for the fact that they were more alone than ever before. As he approached the balcony he heard the cacophony of new arrivals. At that moment all he wanted to do was go back to Angel's room and lock the door, protecting his first true friend and hero from what he knew was going to be a cruel experience. One he feared would either make or break the boy, not a man, just a boy really. Instead he turned and walked to Angel's room. He tapped lightly on the doorjamb and coughed softly to alert the pair to his presence.

"They're here. I'll stall them for a while if you wish." With that simple statement Wes felt that he had offered Angel the world as the gratitude was so evident in his face. He could have died a happy man at that moment, offering a friend real and welcomed support.

Angel turned back to Darla. For a second they just looked at each other and then both gave a wry smile and small chuckle.

"Guess its Showtime?"

"Yes I think it is. I have to admit that I am looking forward to seeing little Buffy's face when she sees me… It might make me feel better about this whole situation."

Angel smiled at her bravado and said the words he knew she needed to hear. "I'm not going to leave you Darla. I'm not saying that we're going to be together but I am going to be here. I promise."

"You've promised lots of things over the years Angelus. I believe that you will do your best to honour this one. You have changed. Still my boy though, still so dark, yet so beautifully bright." Her soft tone disappeared and she took a deep breath. With a small smile she enquired, "I take it that you'll want me to behave myself?"

"Darla, I think we both know that there is more chance of me marrying Lorne than getting you to behave. I know that you'll need to play the bitch, but please keep in mind that I care about these people and don't make it too difficult for me. Also bear in mind I know you as well as you know me. You have a soul Darla; you can be nice and have friends if you want."

"I want you."

"Darla…"

"No, don't say anything. Please. Can I ask a favour though? After all you've done I know that I have no right to ask more but…"

"Go on Darla."

"Kiss me? Once more? Say good bye?"

Angel didn't answer. Instead he leaned in and kissed Darla gently. It was unlike any kiss either had had before. It was sweet and full of love and lacked the blood and passion of their previous couplings. It was pure and soulful and heartbreaking in its finality. Their time was gone. Was it wrong to mourn that?

They broke apart. Darla smirked up at him and raised a delicate eyebrow. He found himself delivering a matching smirk. "This'll be fun," she said and sashayed out of the door. He shook his head and buoyed by her attitude, followed her. 'Fun? It'll be something alright.'

A/N 'Valediction of Forbidden Mourning' is the title of a poem by John Donne. I know that it was a bit angsty but it did leave the promise of fun hanging.


	5. And now for a brief weather report Visi...

Chapter 5 – "And now for a brief weather report. Visitors to LA should expect a decidedly cool front..."

The first thing that Cordy did was take in everybody's appearance. She also had to wonder how it was that they fell into a stylised pose, with the Almighty Slayer at the centre. 'I bet that demons know they are in trouble when the gang move into ass kicking pose 1. They're more co-ordinated than the Varsity Cheer Squad was – and we were inter-state champs! I hope that we aren't that embarrassing when we fight. Pffh – as if. We're not _Scoobies_. Right be nice Cordy, reformed Cordy.' She cast a critical eye over each in turn.

'Giles same as ever, although it is kinda weird to see him wearing jeans and a light forest green jumper. I suppose that it's because I haven't seen him since his tweed and library days. Jeez, Watchers are abandoning tweed! The Apocalypse is nigh. Not so sure that LA is prepared for two reformed Watchers. Next to him… Willow holding hands with a blonde I supposed must be Tara. They look a cute couple. That purple peasant top really compliments Willow's hair tone. I guess the Wicca/bohemian look really works for Willow. In fact, Willow looked the most chic of the lot of them. Tara's look is similar but if possible more feminine. At least they aren't co-ordinating that would be worse than tweed-less Watchers. She looks very Mother Earth and I really need to know where the cardigan and the drop-chain necklace have come from. Maybe Angel will lend me his credit card? Slayer central. The Buffster's wearing the classic jeans and white shirt combo. Not bad, can't go wrong. Betcha she wanted to dress up for Angel though! The boots are good. I guess Little Buff wants to be ready to kick ass whenever. The walking Gap advert next to her has to be Riley. Please – at least Gunn can carry off cargo pants and a t-shirt. This guy just makes them look plain boring and no one under 30 should be seen anywhere near a sweater like that. Buffy has obviously traded down from stylish boyfriend to farm boy. Never fear, alls right with the world – Xander has not developed a fashion style. That shirt makes Lorne look tame! Has he put on weight? Anya looks nice – calf length light blue skirt and a strappy little top and some beautiful Jimmy Choo sandals. I totally approve. Lastly, Spike. What was it with vamps and the black on black look? And why did Angel invite the Evil Undead?'

Giving an award winning smile she approached her former sort of friends. "Hey guys! Good trip? Didn't think that you'd get here this early."

"Oh I do hope we're not intruding."

"No, not at all. Just thought you were gonna be a bit later's all. It's not a problem. Come in, sit, dump the bags by the stairs. I'll just go get Angel."

"He knows there here Cordy. Give him a minute."

"Wesley!"

"Hello. Yes Xander I am Wesley. I trust you all had a good journey." He held out a hand and gestured for them to take seats on the sofas. Cordy went to join Gunn perched on top of the reception counter.

Whilst the Scoobies sat on the sofas, Spike sat on the steps that lead out to the back courtyard, wringing his hands nervously. He jumped when he heard the whisky tones that haunted him. "You can smoke Spike – as long as you stay by the doors. But put those boots on the furniture and we're gonna have a problem." The small grin that accompanied this belied any force behind the words. It was at that instant he knew something was horribly wrong. He couldn't feel Angel; he could smell him but not feel him. 'What the bloody hell did those military wankers do to my bleedin' head! 'm gonna rip soldier boy a new one if he doesn't tell me what other little surprises I should ex… God he looks… Stop thinking this instant!' "Thanks Peaches." There was a chorus of 'Hey Angel' and 'Hello' before the "Hello Angel" that every one had waited for came. 'Here we go – the Slayer and Ponce show.' It was a sentiment echoed by all.

There was an awkward few moments until Angel broke the silence by enquiring if everyone knew each other. Gunn, Tara and Riley were introduced to the people that they had never met but heard so much about. There was a brief description of how each had joined the groups. Spike found that he liked Angel's humans. They seemed more real to him. The Scoobies walked round believing that they were the fairytale heroes and all would end well. Angel's group knew what this life meant. Each was hardened by loss – he could smell it – but at the same time they had an innocence that said they knew they would die, yet it didn't matter because someone would benefit. The differences between the two groups reminded him of a quote from Arthur Ashe, "_True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others, at whatever cost_."

Buffy wanted to be the best Slayer there had ever been. Giles drove her with that goal. But Peaches and his gang worked for the higher beings and helped any_thing_ that needed it. If listening to some of the random tales that were exchanged didn't display that, then the Cheerleader's simple offer of, "Spike you want some blood after your trip?" told him everything. They didn't even care when he drank it there and then.

The conversation however, was getting nasty. Buffy was becoming increasingly irritated by the fact that Cordelia Chase(!) seemed to be very good friends with Angel. She couldn't understand how that had happened. Sure 'Cordy', as they all kept calling her seemed different, but there was no way that the bitch she had been had just vanished. Also Angel was confusing her. He didn't mind Spike being sprawled across the steps smoking, was polite with Riley and even made a joke when Xander had asked, "Who are you and what have you done with the Brood Master?" The glib response of, "Check the dust buster" had shocked everyone into silence, until Spike had started laughing. Not only that, but he had barely spoken two words to her – a polite welcome and brief hug, no different to Willow, and general questions. Something was very wrong with her Angel and she bet that 'Cordy' had an awful lot to do with it.

Riley was using each available opening to criticise Angel. In doing so he was really pissing Gunn off. All Gunn could see was a little white boy who had no clue of the world around them and fought vamps for fun, not because he had no choice. He also didn't rate the Slayer. He had expected someone like Alonna, brave to a fault, and was sorely disappointed by a girl who seemed to hate the advantage she had. If his sister had been a Slayer, she'd still be alive and so would a lot of his friends. He was beginning to dislike the group intently. He didn't trust the vamp, the Slayer seemed too self-centred, her honey was too convinced that the world was black and white, Xander's attitude with Angel and the fact that he had hurt Cordy wasn't going down well and Giles was like Wes, except he had a higher opinion of himself. The three girls seemed really nice and Gunn had to laugh at Anya. But, all in all, he couldn't see why these people were held in such high regard by his friends. He wasn't sure they deserved it. He was now just waiting for the spark to hit the blue paper, cos he was sure that Barbie was about to explode.

Sure enough it came. And Gunn couldn't have asked for a better floor-show.

"So, what you guys do here is run a detective agency and profit from others' misfortune. That's really low." Riley couldn't help but smirk when he saw that his comment had registered with Buffy. 'Angel's not so precious now is he?'

"Actually bro' most of the time, Angel won't let Cordy charge them. And if we did? Well let's just say that our biggest clients have a helluvah tab building!"

"That doesn't make good business sense. You provide a service and therefore should be recompensed by those you help. That is the way of capitalism."

"That's what I've been saying, but does any one listen to Cordy? Huh, as if!"

"We'll listen when the comments you make are worth our time."

"Bite me Wesley."

Instead he just raised an eyebrow at her, as she stuck out her tongue, and carried on with what he had been going to say. "Actually Anya, what Gunn meant was that we don't just serve humans."

"What you actually help demons? I thought we were meant to protect people from them."

"I'll think you'll find that the world isn't that clean cut Xander. The forces that fight on the sides of both 'Good' and 'Evil' come in many forms. I've found that humans can be crueller than many demons we've helped. I have done more good, helping a vampire, than I ever achieved as a Watcher."

Gunn rolled his eyes, "What English is saying is that we 'Help the Hopeless' and sometimes we don't get a say in who we help. Powers call and we go running."

"Powers? What powers?"

"The Powers That Be." Angel said these four words as if they answered everything. They did. Unless you were Xander Harris.

"Powers That Be what?"

"Jeez, did you actually learn anything from those thousands of hours reading really dusty books to find out what our latest creature feature was? Or did you just look at the naked pictures. Huh, thought so. Men! The Powers are the higher powers guiding us."

"Oh! I know this! They are thought to be the guardians and guides of the soldiers of good. I guess they are the ones who chose the slayer." Willow wasn't convinced if she was right or not but to her that seemed the most likely conclusion.

"Remind me to send them a Thank You note."

"I had never actually considered that as a possibility Willow. Generally we find they send visions to a Seer."

"Ah yes. Cordelia, Willow told us that you receive visions. Can you give us anymore information? It would be most useful to us, well to Buffy, if we can tell what is coming."

Cordelia exchanged wary glances with her colleagues. They had discussed the fact that the Sunnydale crew would want more information as to what it was Cordy did and saw. She was shocked however at how selfish the request was. They seemed to view the Visions as a Magic 8 Ball and she wasn't going to stand for that. She may hate the mind numbing, skull crushing, blinding agony that they inflicted, but since the Vocah incident she had realised how much pain there was in the world and how much of a gift it was to be able to help ease a little of it. The few phone calls, chit-chat and the scant emails that had been swapped confirmed to her one thing, Buffy and her followers saw this as a duty, a burden. Her guys saw it as an honour, a chance to help and perhaps redeem themselves along the way. Her hackles rose at the implications behind Giles' comment and she found herself slipping back into Bitch mode. "My Visions are messages from the Powers. They show me images of people in trouble and we solve their problem." The less they knew the better as far as she was concerned.

"I don't think that was what he was asking Cordelia. He was asking you to tell us what is coming for us."

Cordelia went to Bitch Def Con 3 and her family noticed it immediately. Angel and Wes couldn't help but share a smirk. The three of them had been the Sunnydale outcasts – Cordelia had perhaps had the hardest time of the lot of them. She had changed so much and they were so proud of her. Both were looking forward to Cordy kicking some Scooby butt, but Angel couldn't help but feel bad that Buffy had chosen to pick a fight. After all, she had Darla to face yet. He was glad no one had asked him why they were here as he was way too nervous and unsure to try to explain. He knew that Spike knew there was something different. He knew Angel better than Darla did. That was the main reason why Angel had joined Cordy and Gunn on the counter. It didn't hurt that sitting there put valuable distance between him and Riley and Xander. The urge to hit them both was building every second.

Gunn snickered in his ear, "Looks like Barbie is about to hand Sindy's ass back to her. This is gonna get ugly."

Feeling more jovial since his talk with Darla he couldn't help but reply silkily, "I know. You think we should set up a ring and get the baby oil out?"

He smirked as Gunn's street 'cool' image cracked under the influence of a voice that had been locked away for 100 years. Before Gunn could try to recover his image, Cordy had hopped off the counter and stalked over to Buffy. He and Gunn got more comfortable. From the look on Wes' face they both knew that Cordy had her 'I'm Lilah Morgan in better shoes' expression on. He bit his lip and waited.

"I'm not an idiot Buffy," she spat the name out, loosened the reigns on her own inner-Angelus and decided to play. "I just felt that such a selfish request wasn't really worth the effort of replying to."

To say that Buffy was mad was like saying that the Arctic was kinda chilly. "I'm glad to see that you haven't changed. Still the same self-serving bitch you always were. God I bet you totally rule the roost round her. Finally Queen C is actually important and wanted. Well, wanted in the sense that you have something besides Daddy's credit card."

Def Con 3 became Def Con 4 and the 'I'll eat Angelus for breakfast' smile replaced the 'I'm Lilah Morgan in better shoes' expression. "Gosh Buffy, a year on and you're still trapped in high school living out you're inferiority complex. It must eat you up inside that I'm here every day with Angel while you're all the way away in SunnyHell."

'Damn Bint's good – never seen the Slayer turn that shade before.'

'Buffy doesn't care about Angel she's with me. Buffy doesn't care about Angel she's with me. Buffy doesn't care about Angel she's with me. Buffy…'

'Yup still the bitchy Queen C.'

"Huh. I guess those 'visions' have damaged your eye sight because I'm with Riley. And we're really happy together. We have a great relationship – not that you'd know what one of those was. I mean come on Cordelia, who are you trying to fool. Look at you, you put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and think you've joined the human race. It takes more than that – you have to have feelings to qualify."

"Yeah. You're so full of 'feelings' that you have a robot for a boyfriend. What? Do you turn him on in a morning and then plug him into the wall socket after he's done at night?"

Spike couldn't help it. Stifling a laugh he looked over at Angel. He expected to see a distraught expression on his normally stoic face. After all, the love of his 'life' was parading her new piece of meat around shamelessly. What he found shocked him. Yeah, Angel looked like a Rodin statue, his face totally blank, but his eyes were that of the real Angelus. The Sire that had made unlife a dream come true. 'What the bloody hell is going on here? First it looks as though me ole Sire's closer to the surface than ever – and isn't that a delicious thought? The real Angelus back and not that wanker that appeared after he got 'is rocks off wiv Slutty. And speaking of the bitch... since when did he not jump to the Slayer's defence? Looks like LA agrees with Peaches! I really like these pet humans! They're a bad influence on him!'

Angel had felt the entire groups' eyes on him at some point but now he felt a gaze that was totally burning through his skin. He looked up and caught Spike's eyes. He couldn't help himself. He was really enjoying the fact that Cordy was putting Buffy in her place. She may be the Slayer but she wasn't always right. Angel had to admit that this was partly a petty revenge as he was still sore about what happened with Faith. The fact that she hadn't trusted him and saw him as nothing more than a vampire had really hurt. It also made him realise an awful lot of home truths about Buffy. Ones that were becoming more self evident as her 'discussion' with Cordy continued.

Part of who he was and who he would be were decided in that moment.

Keeping Spike's gaze he allowed a small smirk to appear on his face, a few seconds later he winked and blew a kiss in Spike's direction before turning back to the main event. He wished he could see Spike's face because he knew that he'd be thinking Angelus was back. He mourned the loss of his senses once again; if he could smell Spike then he wouldn't have even thought of looking. 'Spike'd be right though wouldn't he?' a little voice whispered. 'Angelus is back – just not bad. Think you can live with that? It could be fun.' Before he could turn back to observe Spike, Buffy exploded.

'What the hell is Peaches playing at?' Before he could process the thought more, hurricane Buffy hit.

"How dare you! You have no right to talk to me like that. After all the times I have saved your life and you treat me like this? I don't think you realise who you are dealing with. I'm not some little Cordette you can push around, I'm the Slayer. I…"

"Yes Buffy, how could I forget – you're the Slayer. But do you want to know something? You only fight because you have to – all of you. I listened to you for years and never once were you grateful for your gifts. Even Giles resented being a Watcher. Well we do things differently here. We fight because we can, because we want to not because it is our duty. I will not allow you to use my gift to make your life easier."

"That's not your choice Cordy – those visions are more my responsibility than yours. I'm the one that has to fight! I'm the one that defends the world. I should know what you see. We all agree – you're totally irresponsible, you should inform us of what you see!"

'Gotcha!' "Oh but Buffy… these visions are specific. There meant for a chosen champion." She let the baited hook dangle for a few seconds. "Sorry honey, but Angel was the chosen one this time. The visions are meant for him to stop – not any old soldier." She cast a pointed look at Riley and smiled sweetly. "Some shoes can't be filled."

Before Buffy or any other Scooby could counter Cordy's attack a new voice joined the debate. Floating down from the balcony came a sickly sweet voice that Angel knew oh so well.

"I have to agree with Cordelia. Angelus is quite impossible to replace. Especially in the bedroom. Believe me I know, I've looked."


	6. All Butterflies should be Shot at Birth

Ok its explanation time... Enjoy!

Chapter 6: All Butterflies should be shot at Birth.

Somewhere around Kuala Lumpur, Angel imagines, a butterfly has just alighted from its perch on a beautiful bloom. The effects of that primary flap are currently being experienced in the lobby of the Hyperion hotel. Or they will be once every one remembers how to breathe.

As Darla made her way down the stairs, small smile on her lips, she studied each person in turn. She had been listening to the battle of wills between the Seer and the Slayer and had to admire Cordelia. She was not intimidated by anything. Darla recalled with a shudder the chilling way in which a girl, only a fraction of her age, had not only stood up to her but had faced her down. Angel had a true friend in that girl, and in the Watcher. She had to give them all credit for the way they had stuck by Angel, and so far had accepted her. She also made a note to herself that should it ever occur that she became a vampire again, to have those two turned. They would be more impressive than Drusilla and Spike. They'd be downright terrifying.

She'd also been watching her Boy very closely and she had to smile at what she saw. He had been right. He was a curious mix of Soul and Demon. He was quiet and introverted yet at the same time she could tell that he was having the time of his life watching the erupting chaos around him. Her Boy had always loved the whirlwind. He loved to create it, but he wasn't one to pass up on a pre-prepared one. She also found confirmation of his earlier words. He wasn't running after the little Slayer and he definitely wasn't viewing her as the centre of creation. He seemed to be doing exactly what she was – watching, waiting and assessing. She would bet her soul that Angel knew far more about everyone in that room than they could imagine. Even those he had only just met.

It was an ability of Angelus' that had proved useful on more than one occasion and had threatened Darla immensely. Angelus, and quite obviously Angel, had a god given talent for reading people. He immediately knew how to break them or bend them to his will. It had seemed that Dru wasn't the only psychic in the family on more than one occasion. Yet that was not what Darla had found disquieting. It was the spider web that he led people into that unsettled her. She had watched as he fumbled with the computer or a mobile, pretended that he didn't see sly glances or telling expressions, yet she knew that that was all an act. If he needed to, he had already learnt enough about each person and whatever equipment to keep himself alive. Not only alive but with his opponent at a disadvantage. Liam, Angelus and now Angel walked through existence as if life were a game, a chess board as opposed to a stage. She guessed that it worked well for him.

Buffy was weak. Cordelia was right. She saw her calling as a job and it was eating away at her soul. She isn't the girl Angel fell in love with, that much is obvious. What is also obvious is that her taste in men – which Darla couldn't have faulted – had taken a sharp nose dive. Darla refused to believe that the Slayer was naïve enough to think that the homely farm boy was anywhere near being a decent replacement for Angel. She actually pitied the girl. She also knew that Buffy hadn't released her hold on Angel's leash. What Buffy hadn't realised was that her puppy had already chewed through it, and was in the process of leaving the garden. If that little dye-job thought that Angel would be running back to her at the first snap of her fingers, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Not only that, but she was in for a fight if she thought that Darla was going to be evicted from Angel's life. That was Angel's choice and he'd already confirmed that she was going nowhere.

None of the other occupants interested her that much. She was curious as to why Spike was there though. Perhaps curious wasn't the best way to describe it, vexed beyond all reason was more like it. That little menace had been a thorn in her side since he'd been turned. He'd usurped her as Angelus' preferred hunting partner to the stage that she had had to actually had to demand his presence by her side on a hunt. She also knew that given the opportunity he would've usurped her place in Angelus' bed. Ever since that night Angelus had welcomed 'Will' into the family, creating a blood bond between the two, the little brat had been obsessed with earning his adopted Sire's admiration, in the hopes of earning another night with the dark demon. She knew that Angelus was a fantastic lover, but she had never panted after him in that way. Will had practically fallen in love with her Childe, and that was unacceptable. Spike had returned her animosity full force. Neither had ever done anything, Spike had been in no position to challenge Darla in any way. He had neither the status nor the strength. He was also smarter than she was willing to give him credit for. She was under no illusion that had Angelus not been cursed, William would have made it back into his bed. That was deplorable and it better not become an issue in the here and now. There was only room for one slight blonde in Angel's life and that spot was taken.

The lack of oxygen didn't affect everyone, however, and before it had time to return, the one occupant that no longer needed it decided that actions were worth more than words. Angel suddenly realised the fatal flaw in his plan. Spike and Darla detested each other, Angelus had always played dumb to the root of this problem, but he was very aware of why they hated each other. Darla was now human and Spike had no defence from that. Acting on an instinct that he refused to examine Angel moved to intercept Spike. He ended up tackling Spike to the ground and landing heavily on top of him. Angel was under no illusions. It had been his velocity, superior weight and sheer luck that had stopped the attack.

Now Spike knew. Angel had hoped to be able to tell Spike before the others, being one of the only members of his family left he felt he owed him that much. Trust Darla to insist on playing her games. Why hadn't she just waited until he'd spoken to everyone like she'd promised to before he came downstairs. Now Spike's beguiling blue eyes were staring up at him in both amazement and horror, and Angel found himself unable to pull away. He froze, utterly trapped by the powerful creature pinned below him. Swiftly and with no intent to harm Spike flipped their positions. He was now straddling Angel's thighs and holding Angel's hands down on either side of his head. His grip was loose, Angel was staying where he was put out of a sense of duty to Spike and because he was utterly powerless to do anything else. Until that point Angel had never truly realised how foreign a vampire's flesh felt. It wasn't cold or clammy it was room temperature and silky smooth. It felt so odd – as soft as down whist at the same time it was as hard as marble. Spike's fingers felt like velvet iron vices holding him but putting no effort into it – they were naturally that strong. Angel was also perturbed by the fact that he wasn't disturbed by Spike's growing arousal. He could feel it pressing down on his groin and see it in his dilated pupils but at the same time he was acutely aware and more affected by the pheromones Spike was giving out. It appeared as though the part of the vampire that became aroused by another's arousal and by the vulnerability and danger of the situation was still a part of him. What's more, Angel found he liked it.

Spike for his part was just as spellbound. Sure he was in the dominant position but he held no power here, worst of all he wasn't sure who did. He couldn't get over what he was feeling. Angel's hard body was now soft and warm, it was like a goose feather mattress and Spike wanted nothing more than to sink into it and stay there forever. The skin beneath his fingertips felt as so hot that it was like touching the sun – forbidden and Spike imagined that for him this could be just as fatal. Angel's warm breath caressed his face and Spike felt as though he was being touched by God. The sensations that shot through his body were as welcomed as they were terrifying. He felt as though his life had been destroyed and renewed all at once. His god had fallen and in his place stood a mortal, all the more beautiful for his fragile status. The steady thrum of the human's blood pulsing through his veins, the slight scent of salty skin and the unmistakable aroma of arousal was like a siren's call echoing through Spike's head deafening him to the real world.

Unable to contain himself he leant his head down and inhaled a deep whiff of Angel. He grinned into the warm flesh as he felt Angel shudder and he heard the breathy moan that escaped Angel's lips. He couldn't help but think that this visit to LA was going to be well worth every minute he'd ever spent in the Whelp's company. Just as his tongue darted out to taste the ambrosia of Angel's skin, a heavy hand camped on his shoulder and he was pulled viciously away from the Adonis beneath him. A dark hand closed round his throat and a stake was pressed firmly against his chest. Gunn's eyes were blazing with an unholy fire and Spike realised that he may very well meet his end here. Demons were not meant to try to touch Heaven – they were inevitably destroyed for their blasphemy.

The world crashed back into focus with as Spike was torn from him. For a minute he lay there, dazed, shaking and panting from whatever the hell had just happened to him. He had been round Spike for years, and yet he had never felt anything like that. The heat threatened to burn him alive. Snapping back into focus he became aware of everyone yelling and Gunn pressing a stake into Spike's chest. He jumped to his feet and clamped an unforgiving hand on Gunn's wrist. Anger and fear raced through his veins and he couldn't help the hissed "Let him go", that escaped his lips. Gunn glanced warily at Angel. He was well aware of the fact that Angel was no longer a vampire but that voice scared him more than he'd been scared in a long time. Seeing the very devil in the look Angel was giving him he released his grip on Spike and dropped the stake. It hit the floor and seemed to suck all the noise out of the room.

For an indefinite amount of time no one moved. No one dared utter a word. Time stopped.

"Would someone tell me what the HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Buffy's voice ripped through the hotel, bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and down the empty corridors. 'Oh yes' thought Angel, 'that butterfly has an awful lot to answer for.' He shook himself out of his revery and offered an apologetic smile to Gunn. He shot Darla a vicious yet amused glare and turned to Buffy. Seeing her in full on pissed Slayer mode, he switched tactics. He turned to Spike and asked softly, "You ok?" the sardonic smile and reply of "Just Peachy Peaches", did little to ease his fears. He knew that this would screw Spike up as much as it had done him. He couldn't help but feel a tad guilty. He offered a small smile and wink at the blonde before turning to the rest of the group. Taking a deep breath he addressed them all.

"I had hoped to do this differently. But some people," he looked pointedly at Darla, "Just have to make an entrance rather than wait for a few moments. Perhaps we should sit down? Wes, I think that the Glenfiddich in the cabinet behind my desk may come in handy. Oh and grab the Jack Daniels, I think that Spike could use a drink."

"Man I'll say. Blondie was about to turn you into his own personal liquid lunch. Bro' how'd ya let him get so close to your neck?"

"Gunn, it's cool. Really. It's not like we haven't done that before."

"Yeah but man…"

"Its ok – let it go. Spike won't hurt me, don't worry. And you! You just have to make an entrance don't you Darla?"

"What can I say? You used to like my entrances as I recall. I believe you found them… inspiring. Besides, this party needed a little life putting into it." The smirk on Darla's face was infectious and Angel found a bubble of laughter forced its way out of his body. The situation was just too unreal. Everything he had felt and repressed since Darla had shown up in LA was expelled from his body in the form of hysterical giggles. Tears welled up in his eyes and coursed down his cheeks. He sank to the floor, leaning heavily against the counter and felt that his sides might rip open. He laughed even harder as he became aware of the stares that the Scoobies were giving him and harder still when Spike sank down next to him also shaking with laughter. He gained control of himself and looked up. Bad idea. He caught Darla's eye and was set off again.

Wesley wandered into the office to get the alcohol knowing that if no one else wanted one he was in dire need of a drink, and so too was Angel, if the look on Buffy's face was anything to go by. Whilst he raided Angel's extensive alcohol supply, grabbing some vodka for good measure, Cordelia went to the kitchen to grab a tray and enough glasses for everyone. Both returned to the lobby at the same time and wondered whether or not someone had released nitrous oxide into the lobby. The sight of the former Scourge of Europe and his apprentice rolling around on the floor like schoolboys was disquieting to say the least. Cordy couldn't hep but join in the laughter when she saw Buffy's face. She was doing a remarkable impression of a fish – eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing but saying nothing.

"I think that Deadboy and Jnr. are possessed. And since when do vampires become un-dusty?"

"ANGEL! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Is this some sick joke – flaunt your ex in front of me to make me jealous? Or is it the annual Scourge of Europe reunion? Stop laughing!"

If anything, Buffy's tantrum made Angel laugh harder and Buffy felt like punching him back into sanity. Wesley saw the Slayer's eye begin to twitch and her fists start to ball at her sides. He decided to take control of the situation. Ignoring the pack of hyena's that had appeared in the lobby he set the drinks down and put the tray that Cordelia had brought next to them.

"Would anyone care for a drink? Please hep yourselves. Buffy do calm down and take a seat and I will try to explain what is going on as best I can. Or at least until Angel comes back from his little trip." He paused, not sure how to carry on and resist the urge to throttle Angel for putting him in this situation. Well at least he wasn't the one who they were all going to be bombarding with questions and poking like a science experiment later on. Summoning ever ounce of courage he possessed he decided to begin in the most simple way. There were times when he hated being a watcher – you were always expected give the explanations.

"Right. Darla, I'm sure you remember Buffy, Mr Giles, Willow and Xander from Sunnydale. The blond seated with Willow is Tara, the other girl is Anya and that is Buffy's boyfriend Riley. Everyone this is Darla. She turned Angel 250 years ago." He waited as strained greetings were exchanged and couldn't help but wince at the predatory smile that Darla was wearing. Perched next to Gunn on the central seating she looked like a polite society lady, not the devil that she was.

"I'm not sure of how much knowledge you have of what's been going on here in LA this past year with us. Through Angel's work for the Power's That Be we have helped countless families and slain numerous fiends. In doing so we have come into contact with a law firm called Wolfram and Hart. They are not your average law firm, in fact their main goal we have ascertained is to bring about the Apocalypse. They represent the most unsavoury factions of both the human and demon worlds. Angel, in his mission, has crossed swords with them on various occasions and…"

"Wes? I'll take it from here. Thanks though." He smiled at his friend. It was unfair of him to expect Wesley to have to do this. He also guessed that they would be there for a good few hours if Wes was left to explain. "Long story short? I began to piss them off. Killed too many clients. On top of that it seems that there was a prophecy that the Apocalypse would be affected by the vampire with a soul. And we're talking the End of Days here, the real deal. Anyway, they have thrown a lot of crap at us since we started but they decided that that wasn't enough. They wanted Angelus back, but in such a way that my soul couldn't ever be restored. So they dragged Darla back from hell.

The guessed, quite rightly that she was the best person to pull this off. The amount of . control she has over Angelus practically guaranteed them victory. Thing is they brought her back human."

All eyes shot to Darla. Spike growled softly in his throat, suddenly more concerned about the Angel/Darla rather than the Angel/Buffy relationship. Buffy couldn't help the flair of jealousy that was starting to build. Riley was relieved at the idea that there was another woman to distract Angel's attention from Buffy. Angel elbowed Spike gently and carried on talking before anyone could ask any questions. As he continued he kept eye-contact with Darla, grinning at the memories and challenging her to defend her actions.

"Darla started to work her magic on me and I thought that I was going insane. She invaded my dreams and I was so exhausted by them that I was sleeping up to 20 hours a day just to recover. I was off my game and slipping. Anyway Darla kicks off the real game by pretending to be another person, accused me of killing her husband and she makes my friends doubt me. All I have is my sense of smell to tell me that it's really her. Eventually she comes clean and then scuttles off back to Hell Inc.

Turns out that I wasn't playing the game that they wanted me to play. I refused to turn Darla and the situation was getting out of hand. They had royally fucked up for want of a better term. Her soul was starting to weigh heavy on her, 400years of killing had to catch up with her. They wanted me to try to save Darla's soul, and destroy myself trying to succeed in an impossible task. See they had brought Darla back human, just as she was before the Master turned her. She was dying. Syphilis." He turned from Darla and studied his hands. Despite the 'positive' outcome this was still remarkably difficult.

"It was the perfect plan. The only way to save her would be to turn her. Either way I was screwed. I didn't help her – she'd die from either the syphilis or another vampire – or I helped her and damned my soul. Foolish little lawyers. They thought they knew me so well. They underestimated me seriously. We have a friend, an anagogic demon known as the Host. He can read destinies and he has a lot of contacts. Anyway he told me about these trials. Basically, you pass the three trials you get your wish granted. I took the trails. Saved Darla."

Before he could continue Giles interrupted him. "Angel, I don't understand how that is possible. The amount of energy that would be required to do such a thing, well quite frankly there are very few beings in this dimension that could wield such power. Aside from that, there is the cosmic balance to consider."

"What type of cosmic balance are we talking about G-Man? A huge set of weighing scales?"

"Pretty much. What he means Xand is that when you do magicks that conjure or create from scratch you sorta ask the universe for a lot of energy and it has to be taken from somewhere. Usually this type of spell would require a sacrifice… It didn't require a sacrifice right Angel?"

"You've been studying I see. Actually it did require a sacrifice, I …"

"My God! Buffy have you heard this? He's admitting that he sacrificed someone to save that thing's life! How can you just sit there? Never mind I'll sort it myself."

"Riley, I think that it would be prudent to hear what Angel has to say before we pass judgement."

That was the last straw for Angel. "Oh don't be so sanctimonious Giles. Don't pretend that you trust me either, it insults my intelligence. And you? If you insult Darla once more, a human being like yourself then I will introduce you to a pal of mine. Trepkos would love to meet an ex-Initiative soldier I'm sure. You tortured demons and you had a soul. In my book? Darla rates higher. Yes I sacrificed someone, there wasn't much choice. To get Darla back someone had to die."

He looked at each of them in turn suddenly realising that they were not friends. They just viewed him as extra muscle in the fight against evil and it grieved him to the very core. He found himself no longer caring what they thought of him. Tiring of their company he decided to wrap things up.

"Do you really think that little of me? I sacrificed myself. I faced a wall of spring loaded stakes and I died. They took the vampire's immortality and left the human soul. I'm human now. And I'm off to Caritas. Feel free to take any room on the second floor but not 312, 221, 216 or 219, they're ours. Fancy a drink Spike? Guys? See you later."

With that, Angel and his team, Darla and Spike exited the hotel leaving a stunned group of Scoobies in their wake.


	7. Choir Boys and Seraphim

A/N For those who wanted to know the pairings in this fic are A/S and A/Other. There will also be an OC in later chapters. Thanks for the feedback - it was greatly appreciated.

Chapter 7 – Choir Boys and Seraphim

"Bleedin' Hell Peaches that was bloody brilliant! I thought me dreams had come true when the Cheerleader here tore into Slutty, but that? That was genius! Did you see their faces? I could die a happy vamp right now – that was better than bagging a slayer! You must have a death wish mate!" Spike could barely get the words out as he was laughing and bouncing around like Tigger on a sugar high. He couldn't believe it. Someone had finally put the almighty Scoobies in their places. He felt like all his Christmases had come at once. Not only that, but Angelus was back! Ok, so he wasn't about to go out and start a massacre but he was here! And he wasn't sending Spike away! Ok so the Bitch was here too but she was just a mortal and the way that Angel had been with him earlier? Well, let's just say that life was looking up!

"Glad I have your approval Spike." Angel couldn't help but be amused at the way the hyperactive blond was taking all this. He was glad that Spike didn't seem to hate him for this but made a note of the fact that he was going to have to talk to him at some point. He wanted his friendship with the bleached idiot back. He wanted to be friends with Darla. He wanted a family again. Cordy, Gunn and Wes were a part of it, but he needed more.

"Umm Angel? Just a quick question. Why the hell have we brought the Evil Undead with us?" Cordy was not impressed. She had been impaled because of this bleached freak and she had seen what he had done to Angel. Why the hell was he invited to the celebration drinks? And what was that little display on the floor about? She'd always had her suspicions about men that dyed their hair and painted there nails but that had been too much information! She just hoped that he had no intentions of trying to corrupt Angel.

"He's here Cordy because I wouldn't submit even Lindsey to the fireworks that'll be going off in the hotel about now – unless you fancy learning how to use a dustpan and brush? Besides he's usually good for a laugh and I want to let loose this evening. Especially since I'll be facing the Inquisition when we get back."

"You've faced them before Angelus. I doubt that these children are a patch on the real thing."

"You haven't seen Buffy pissed Darla. Let's just say, it's not pretty."

They carried on walking down the street. The sun hadn't been down all that long so it was still warm out. The street was quite quiet and luckily there were few cars on the road. If there had been they would have had to go round Spike who was adamantly walking in the middle of the road.

"So Caritas then? You ain't singin are ya dawg? Cos if you are – I think I'll head back to the hotel cos that'd be less painful."

"Uh what you on about Charlie Boy? Why the hell would Peaches be singing and who do I hafta kill for lettin' 'im try?"

"I'll take it from that you have had the privilege of hearing Angel's dulcet tones then?"

"Sure have Percy and lemme tell ya – he ain't no Seraphim that's for sure."

"Well we can't all be good little choir boys can we Willie?"

"Sod off Wanker!"

"What? Spike was a choir boy? Oh that's better than getting to tell Buffy off!"

"Can it bint! I'm not a bleedin nancy – you get me!"

"Oh we have to get him sing – it'll be so entertaining. I can just see him giving a rousing rendition of YMCA or perhaps he will follow in your footsteps Angel and give us a little Manilow. I'm seeing Copacabana."

"I'm with you there Wes. Although, little Willie did like his hymns."

Spike growled at Angel, but he meant no malice. It was good to be bantering with someone again. Plus, these humans had backbone. They were his type of people. "Ok, enough with the tease Spike games Angelus. Where the bloody hell are we going?"

"We're going to a karaoke bar run by an anagogic demon called the Host. You sing and he reads you're soul. It's quite a fascinating talent really. And if the singing doesn't interest you, there's always the fact that he makes Bloody Mary's, with real blood."

"Basically it's an upscale version of Willie's." Angel translated Wesley's little speech. Sometimes the inner watcher broke through the reticent English façade.

"Why do demons go? We ain't got souls mate. Well except you…uh… I mean… You know what I meant." Spike hung his head and started fishing through his pockets for a cigarette.

Angel stopped. "Guys, go on ahead. Spike and I'll catch you up. Here," he pulled out his wallet, "Get the drinks in." They all shot Angel identical looks that read – 'He's an evil vampire, your human, you do the math' but Angel waved them off. He didn't notice the dirty look that Darla shot him, but Spike did. He merely shrugged his shoulders and cocked an eyebrow. The look she returned would have the devil running for cover. Cordy snatched the wallet and the quartet set off down the street. Angel scuffed his boot on the sidewalk. Now he had a chance to talk, he didn't know what to say.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't start broodin' bout this yeah. It's done. No goin' back now. Just have to accept it an' move on."

"That's it?"

"What else is there to say?"

"You could scream and shout at me. That's how we usually do this. I know violence is out but… do something!"

Spike lit a cigarette and started to smoke languidly. He watched Angel closely. He quickly realised that Angel was lost. He didn't know what to do or how to act. He was so used to being the brooding bastard that was riddled with guilt that he wasn't used to being free. He needed Spike to be angry at him because then he could feel validated about trying to enjoy himself. Spike wasn't sure whether or not Angel actually was happy. He seemed to be just reacting to everything as he went. Truth was, Spike was angry, he was furious but at the same time he wasn't.

"What the bloody hell do you want me to do? All I could do is scream and shout cos you gave up my Sire for that fuckin' bitch! It was always Darla that came first for you! She clicked her fingers and you went droolin' after her! You never noticed me or Dru – it was always her! Is that what you want to hear? That I hate you for abandoning me again? That if I didn't have this bloody bit of tin in me head I'd 'av been beatin you to a bloody pulp by now an' fucked you into oblivion. Then I'd turn you? Is that what you wanna hear? 'Cos I've said it now Peaches. Does it make ya feel better for tryin' to get on with your life?"

"I don't know Spike, I just don't know."

Angel sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and Spike noticed that he was playing with his claddagh ring. He had to know…

"'S that the ring ya got… ya know… before…"

"Yes, Spike. This is the ring you got me. Haven't taken it off since I got it. Feels like a part of me now. It doesn't feel right if I don't wear it. It's my link to the past. A little piece of home."

Spike saw the desperate look in Angel's eyes and decided to throw him a bone.

"Yeah… I am angry and hurt and pissed beyond belief. But at the same time… gotta say it's good to have Angelus back. I mean in the not sendin' the world to hell in a hand basket version. He's the real you ain't he? I mean the demon makes 'im evil, the soul makes him a broody ponce but the smart mouthed, fun lovin' devil is the real you. It's good to see that again – I missed it. Missed you."

The quiet tone of Spike's voice and the subtle infection of his natural accent gave Angel hope that not all was lost. But he needed Spike to realise that this wasn't going to be easy. Spike was right, he was Angelus, but he wasn't sure if that was all he was and he wasn't comfortable with the idea. After hating the demon for a hundred years it was difficult to accept that that was who he was. No matter how much it was simplified it wasn't as easy as that in his head. He ran his hands over his face and looked back at Spike. Naturally, his voice became coloured and tainted with an Irish lilt that displayed the depth of the confusion in his mind.

"I don't know. It's just too hard. If this is the real me, then I've been living a lie for a hundred years. I guess it's going to take some time to work this out. But I want us to be friends again.

They, my other friends, don't know me. They know the 'broody ponce'. They don't trust me round Darla. Buffy and the Sunnydale lot were never really friends. Buffy and I were just lovers; there was nothing to build on. But you? You were the closest thing that I ever had to a friend. You could read me, Angelus, like a book, better than Darla could. I think that I'm going to need that. I don't know who I am. I have people expecting me to act one way and I need someone who can accept that I might not act that way.

I need you in my life. I need all the friends I can get. I've just lost everything that I had and knew and it's going to take a while to sort my head out. Think we can try to be friends though?"

Spike couldn't help but swell with pride at the implications in that little heart felt speech. He decided that it was best to keep his answer light so as to prevent any excess brooding that may ruin the evening. Shrugging his shoulders he sat down next to Angel and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Sure we can Peaches, especially if it pisses Slutty off. 'M always up for a little Slayer baitin'. After that little show I'd say it looks like you're wantin' to join the club?" He cocked an eyebrow and pulled his mouth into a little pout.

"Let's just say that I am sick of their holier than thou crap. They aren't the only ones who save the world. She's changed or I was blind before. I never thought that she was so self-centred. But be careful though, I don't want to have to watch your ashes blowing in the wind. I dusted Darla for her and vowed there and then I wouldn't kill any more of my family for her. If they came after me though… well that's another matter."

"So that's why you never came after me and Dru in SunnyHell. You had to know where we were… Never realised that you were stayin away on purpose. And the secrets keep on comin. Huh. Ya thinkin you're gonna tell me whether the Slayer was a decent shag mate? Cos that's one thing 've never done an' 'm thinkin' that it could be fun!"

"We'd better catch the others up – they'll get worried." Angel got up, brushed himself down and started to head towards the club.

"Oi! Peaches! Why aren't you answerin'? Hey! If you don't answer 'm gonna have ta come up wiv me own opinions… oh! She wasn't any good was she? I don't believe it… Slutty isn't livin up to her name!"

"Drop it Spike, just drop it." Angel yanked the door to Caritas open. Before he went inside he turned back to the vampire following him and smirked. "Be good and I may give you some vicarious details later on though." Then he was gone.

Spike paused to finish his cigarette. He couldn't help but grin. 'So Peaches wants to be friends does he? Think I can handle that. Jus' gotta wait and I'll 'av 'im back. An' this time? There'll be no Ice Bitch, no Slutty and no Princess. Its jus' gonna be me an' him. Can't wait!' He flicked the glowing butt away and swaggered into the club.

Spike couldn't believe that Angel was sat in this garish club drinking drinks with a little umbrella in it. Even when Angel ordered a normal drink like a whisky shot or a bottled beer an umbrella found its way into it. Not only that, but he was loving some of the stories that were coming out. Wesley's description of Angel in a pink motor cycle helmet was a particular favourite. He could just picture it. The Host also seemed like a decent chap. Spike wasn't sure that he appreciated being called Blondie as it brought up disturbing memories of Harmony. He also didn't like the library of pet names that Greenie (as Blondie had decided to call him) had for Peaches. He was the only one allowed to have affectionate nicknames for the Ponce. Yet his momentary discomfort was well worth the cringes that Angel shot when "Angelcakes" or "Cinnamon Buns" was called at him from across the club. The cringing became abject horror when Princess and Charlie started to call him "Strudel".

For most of the night they pestered him to sing, especially when Angel gave them a brief recounting of the time that he found out that Spike could sing. This tale lost him all credibility as the Big Bad. Angelus had caught William in a deserted church just outside Whitechapel after a hunt. William hadn't noticed his presence and had sang "Sanctify my Soul" and "The Lord's Prayer" (the only ones he knew off by heart) all the way through before Angelus had revealed himself by a long drawn out round of applause. He thought that he was in for the beating of his life but Angelus had just shook his head, laughed and then escorted William home. He did however, bring it up each and every opportune (and utterly embarrassing) time he could. Spike felt the need to retaliate and told the anti-Scoobies about the time that one of Drusilla's tantrums had forced Angelus into joining in one of her tea parties. He'd had to dress properly for it as well. Angel was quick to point out that Spike was present at the tea party as well and had had to escort Miss Edith to her seat, as though he were her companion.

He was really enjoying himself for the first time in over two years and he almost felt as though he was accepted into the tightly knit group. Much to his disappointment though, Cordelia dragged the AI team out on to the dance floor and he was left with the Ice Bitch. Angel had warned him not to tell Darla about the chip, she wasn't above killing a defenceless creature. Especially when said creature was Spike. He quietly sipped his drink not wanting to get involved in talking to her at all. He kept his eyes focused on the dance floor where they seemed to be having a ball, despite the fact that Watcher Jnr's dancing resembled something between the 'Birdie Song' and an epileptic fit. His peace didn't last long.

"It won't work you know. You're little plot."

"Don't rightly know what you're on about… bitch."

"I've been watching you all night sweet William and all you've been doing is watching him. It's pathetic really. One hundred years later and you're still panting after him. That one night turned you're head and you're itching to get it back. But, sweetie? You'll never have him back. He's human now – why would he want you?"

Spike swallowed the bitter truth that these words held with a shot of Jack. He was not going to let that bitch see that he was affected. Instead he just turned and sneered at her. "Seems to me that someone's scared of the competition. Well ya know what I say? Bring it on bitch. I almost had him before an' I definitely had 'im tonight. I'd say you're worried that you're gonna lose him, and you'd be right. 'M playin' this game ta win Darla. An' I will – I always get what I want."

His blue eyes flickered gold and then turned back to an icy blue. He refused to release her gaze. He just continued to drink his drink and stare her down. Eventually she let a small smile appear and fear clenched at his gut. He'd seen that smile a thousand times before and it always meant trouble. She extended her hand and ran her fingers lazily over his hand and then over the top of his glass and around the rim. Not once did she allow the eye contact to falter. She withdrew her hand.

"I propose a deal sweet William…"

"It's Spike, Granny"

"Whatever. We both know that little Buff will want him back. You know that I want him and I've always known your dirty little wants. So I propose a truce."

"What!" This was not how the game was played.

"I'm not going to say that I won't fight tooth and nail to get him back but I don't want to lose him all together. At the moment he's lost. He doesn't know who he is or what he wants. If we start fighting – he won't cope and we'll both lose. Then that little girl will swoop in and she'll win."

"Get to the bloody point luv. I might not be gettin any older but you are. I can see the wrinkles already. Spit it out."

"Look at him. He's laughing and dancing and having fun with his friends. That's the way in – be a friend to him. If we don't fight, we stand a better chance of coming out on top. I'd rather lose him to you than to that stuck up little madam. What do you say Will? We'd make a great team. Winner takes all."

Spike thought about it. She was right. Angel wouldn't choose one over the other. Angel wanted friends; he wanted a love that grew out of friendship rather than blood and passion. Isn't that what Angel'd told him? The Slayer and he hadn't been friends, just lovers and they hadn't survived. But did he trust Darla to play fair? Usually he would have said no, no way, no chance, and followed those up with a resounding never. But he sensed something different in this Darla. This Darla… this Darla had a soul. This was a totally different creature and she seemed to care. She loved him.

"Ok pet. We'll do it your way. We call a truce and stop Slutty getting her claws into him. But you have to play fair here Darla. No tricks, no schemes and no badmouthing the opposition. Got me? We both want the same thing and we only get it if Angel is happy. 'M in."

"Good. Let the games begin."

Spike grinned. Downing his drink and went to put his plan into action. Seduction. Angelus had been the master and Spike had learned well. It was time for the student to become the teacher. He went up to the stage to select a song. Picking Nine Inch Nail's 'Starfuckers, Inc' he proceeded to bring the house down. In his head he aimed the song at Angel, but the big ape didn't seem to get that. Although his head had spun round so fast on the line "_and when I suck you off not a drop will go to waste_" that Spike thought it would come off his neck, that perhaps Angel wasn't as clueless as Spike had imagined. He could tell Darla understood his meaning though. However, she seemed to be amused by his tactics. So engrossed with his game, he failed to notice the red eyes of the Host watching him with avid interest.

A few hours, several badly sung songs, more tales about Angel's exploits (which were now including appropriate pre-soul tales) and a fair quantity of alcohol later and the group, with the addition of the colourful presence of the Host decided to head back to the hotel. They stopped off en-route to pick up snacks, more alcohol and take away. It was therefore a very merry group that stumbled back into the hotel to face the firing squad.

"We need to talk." Buffy was definitely not amused.


	8. Home Truths Hit You Where It Hurts

Chapter 8 – Home Truths Hit You Where It Hurts.

She couldn't believe it. He had told her the one thing that she had dreamed of hearing for five years and then just walked away. He'd walked out of the door with Spike and Darla of all people. He hadn't even given her a chance to react. He'd just left. She wanted to go after him and tell him that they could be together now. No Darla or Riley, just them. But she didn't know where he'd gone and she wanted to talk to him in private. Her head was in a total spin. She had been so convinced that what they were going to be told was bad. That Angel was dying or that the world was going to end. Instead, she was given her hearts desire. Her one true love was free of all the curses that had kept them apart.

Her one true love. They had been apart for almost two years and yet she was still as convinced, no more convinced than ever, that they were destined to be. This was proof. He was allowed to be a human so he could be with her. Sure she loved Riley in a way. But it was Angel. She'd known the minute she saw him standing on the balcony. Her heart had stopped and then started beating frantically. She was glad that she had been sitting down, as the jelly legs that seeing him had brought about would have meant that she'd have ended up on the floor. He was still so heartbreakingly beautiful. His dark silky hair seemed longer than before, his chocolate eyes were warmer and deeper and she felt herself falling. The clothes seemed different, but they made him look better than ever. He was wearing black combat pants and a long sleeved cream top that really made him look like an angel. The fact that he was in something other than black and that the clothes seemed so stylish surprised her for a second but then she remembered that he'd always dressed well. She supposed that she had been around Xander for far too long. She watched the way that he came down the stairs. He moved so fluidly, no effort but each movement calculated and so regal. The simple act of walking down the stairs was like a dance, so graceful and beautiful. Buffy had felt like she was underwater. She was aware of others talking but Angel was smiling and that was all she could focus upon. She had to talk to him.

Now he was gone. He had seemed so hurt when he left – stupid Riley. All she wanted was for him to come back and talk to her. To realise that he had left her behind and come back to apologise. She could understand that he wouldn't want to talk to Riley, that there was no love lost between Angel and Xander and Giles but this was her – the love of his life. It didn't make sense. She was aware of the fact that everyone around her was talking but she couldn't focus on them, all she could think about was Angel. It was Willow's voice that broke through her reverie.

"Buffy? Are you ok?"

Buffy didn't trust herself to speak; all she could do was nod.

"Sweetie… Do you want something? A drink?"

"Willow… I think that w…we should leave her for a…a bit. Buffy, maybe you should have a lie down. I… I think you're in shock."

"Well why wouldn't she be? Deadboy is no longer Deadboy! I mean what am I going to call him now? Boy?"

"Not helping Xander! Tara's right Buffy. You should go and lie down. Can I get you anything?"

"No Will, I'm just gonna… go… umm…"

Buffy didn't bother attempting to finish her statement. Slowly she walked across the lobby; picked up her bag and made her way up the stairs. She took the first bedroom that she found. It was light and airy having been painted a light blue and all the bedding and the furnishings were in white and dark blue. The furniture was light pine and there was a large comfy chair by the windows. She dumped her bag on the floor and grabbed her wash kit. Going into the en-suite she filled the sink and washed her face. Feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome her she went and lay on the bed.

Ten minutes later, and despite her fatigue, there were too many thoughts in her brain. She got up and left the room. She explored the floor that she was on and then, following a feeling she went up the stairs at the end of the corridor. Following her instincts she found herself outside room 312. She pushed the door open and went inside. The presence of Angel washed over her and she looked around his room. It was so suited to him. There were no windows, but a set of French doors that opened onto a balcony. She could picture him standing on there, wind ruffling his hair as he stared out at the LA skyline. The walls were painted a deep purple, the furniture was all beautifully made and there were gorgeous paintings on the walls. It seemed a mix of old and new but always classic. There was never anything showy or gaudy about Angel. A bookcase of classic novels stood on one wall, there was a stereo system and classical and old CDs next to the book shelf. There was an exquisite crystal decanter and glass set on a small old table. Buffy poured herself a drink and wandered through to the bedroom. The bed was large and covered in soft cotton sheets. The dark comforter was crumpled as if someone had been sitting or lying on it earlier.

She lay down on the bed, pulling the comforter around her and she inhaled a deep breath. It felt so good to be surrounded by the smell of Angel. She pictured herself waking up, curled round his body as she should have been able to on her 17th birthday. Toeing off her boots she settled down, finally relaxing, she fell asleep.

Everyone watched as Buffy left the lobby in a state of shock. As soon as she had gone, the conversation started up again.

"Well, 'no longer Deadboy' really knows how to make an announcement."

"Giles, is that possible? Well of course it's possible because Angel said it's happened and we all saw Darla but… how?"

"I have to say that I am as much in the dark as you are here Willow." Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them absent-mindedly. He always found the exercise soothing, and he really needed to calm down now. The scotch had just wound him up further. "As far as I'm aware Willow there is no precedent for this. Once a vampire is dust they cannot be brought back."

"But what about that time they took you and Willow and tried to bring back the Master guy? Do you think that this is a family trait?"

"I believe that the Master is an anomaly due to his age and status. He left behind a physical reminder that he had walked the earth. Darla left no such reminder. To be quite frank I am worried about this law firm. If they have the kind of resources and power then the pose a serious threat."

"Evil lawyers? Would've thunk it? Only in LA."

"Oh Wolfram and Hart have been around forever, before man kind. They go all the way back to the first demons – the Old Ones. Their main goal is the Apocalypse."

"How do you know this Anya?"

"Oh most demons are aware of Wolfram and Hart. They provide a way into this world for them. They deal in everything from legal issues to magic. Being a vengeance demon they called on me a few times over the years."

"And are they a threat?"

"Only if you get in their way or they want something from you."

"So Angel could be in trouble? Not that I care, but I'd rather not be staying in the line of fire."

"Xander! That's unfair! He's our friend, our newly human friend. God this is huge!"

Tara had been listening to the conversation and realised that none of them had really contemplated the actual issues behind what had happened. "How do you think that Angel's coping?" Tara always seemed to command everyone's attention when she spoke, as what she said was usually very astute and profound. This simple comment was no exception.

"What do you mean Tara? Deadboy's just hit the jackpot! I'm sure that he's doing swell – especially now that he has Darla back as his playmate. Frankly, I couldn't give a damn about how he's doing – it's Buffy we should be worried about."

"You're wrong Xander. Not about the looking after Buffy part because of course she's going to find this upsetting. But Angel has just had his entire life turned upside down."

"Xander remember how hard it was for me. Angel lived most of his life as a vampire – I doubt that he remembers what it was like to be human. I didn't. And if he does? Times are very different now."

"You're different though Ahn, you lived much longer than he did. And you never wanted that life."

"I am not different Xander Harris! Wake up and stop acting like an idiot! Being a vampire is further from being a human than a vengeance demon is. At least we still eat and move through the day. He has to learn a totally new way of life! And one more thing – I chose to be a demon. D'Hoffren offered and I accepted. Angel probably got little choice in his turning. When a vampire chooses a childe they don't tend to ask for the humans permission. What I didn't choose is to be a human again! I enjoyed being a demon. You have no idea how hard it is to fit into your world. The only person I can stand is Spike because he doesn't look down on me or treat me like a fool when I don't understand. You all just laugh. Well I'm sick of it!"

"I can't believe that you are sticking up for him Anya! Do you have any idea of what he was? He was a monster! He tried to kill all of us and drive Buffy mad."

"I killed Xander. I was just as bad – if not worse." With that, Anya grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs. "Oh, and if you think that I am going to be giving you orgasms, knowing that you hate ex-demons, you can think again Xander Harris!" She proceeded to stomp up the stairs without a backward glance.

"What was that about?"

"Well, umm, you have to see it from her point of view. The same thing happened to her that happened to Angel and hearing you attack him like that must make her feel uncomfortable." Willow ran her hand up his arm in a soothing manner trying to ease the tension that she saw in her best friend.

"It's not just that. You guys are a really tight group and it's hard to get into that. Anya feels alienated because she was a demon and she feels left out because she doesn't have a past with you guys. You're her only human connection and it must scare her. You don't know what it's like to be on the outside and knowing that you'll never really be part of the group. I get that."

"Tara, Baby, we don't leave you out…" Willow was horrified that her girlfriend felt so abandoned.

"You may not mean to, but there is a part of you guys that we can't touch. No matter how much you love us." Tara offered Willow an apologetic smile, willing her to understand and accept what she was saying. "I'm going to put my bag in our room and check on Anya."

Tara quietly left the lobby. Behind her were three rather chastened Scoobies who had never considered any of the issues that had been forcefully pointed out to them. So lost in their reverie, they failed to notice a very angry Riley Finn leave the hotel looking for something to kill.

Buffy woke a few hours later feeling refreshed. However, she was still as confused as ever. Deciding that a bath and a change of clothes were in order she headed back down to her room. She was relieved to find that Riley had not put his bags in there and that he was nowhere to be seen. Whilst luxuriating in the bubbles she came to a decision. Angel was coming back with her to Sunnydale. They belonged together and when he got a little distance from LA and this hotel he'd see that. Darla and Cordelia Chase were not going to stop her getting her man back! She'd be sorry to say goodbye to Riley, and hoped that they could stay friends, but she wanted Angel and he wanted her. He was just a little thrown by the whole thing and was worried about putting any pressure on her.

Feeling better about everything and with pictures of a church and white dress and a little girl with golden ringlets, she lifted herself from the tub. She selected her brand new dark brown leather pants and a cream top with a plunging neck line, knowing that they made her look good. Also they were casual enough to pass off as 'just clothes'. Putting the finishing touches to her make up and brushing her hair she headed back downstairs. Buffy could see Giles through the office window; he was sat in the leather armchair studying an old book with a pot of tea on the desk. Willow, Tara and Xander were playing cards and sharing a jumbo sized bag of popcorn. Anya was sat apart from the group flicking through a magazine. There seemed to be an atmosphere between the four but she brushed it off. Feeling her confidence swell at the fact that she and Angel were getting back together, she threw herself onto the sofa.

"Whatca doin?"

"Xander is attempting to teach us how to play poker. Thing is – he doesn't remember how to himself."

"I resent that comment Willow. Ok so I can't recall the exact scoring system but…"

"Give it up Xan, you aren't the poker playing man. But we still love you."

"Humph!" Anya refused to look up from her magazine but the glare was implicit.

"Ok what'd I miss?" Seeing that no information was forthcoming Buffy decided to switch tracks. "So…Go Fish?"

They were into their tenth hand and Willow's seventh win when the doors to the Hyperion opened. A somewhat bruised and slightly inebriated Riley walked through them and wandered over to the group. He placed a loving kiss on Buffy's head and then looked down at himself. "I am just going to get showered and changed and then how about we all go grab something to eat."

"Cool. Me want food."

"Glad to see something's haven't changed."

No sooner had Riley disappeared up the stairs then the door opened and in staggered the six people that had walked out on them earlier accompanied by a green skinned, red eyed, red horned demon. Buffy couldn't help the pissed tone and aggressive stance that she took but she was cross. "We need to talk."

Angel really didn't need or want to get into a yelling match with Buffy right now. He was too high on life. That had been the best night that he'd had in a hundred years. He refused to drop his grin and so answered, "We have food. There is pizza, Chinese and Spike insisted on burgers and Buffalo wings. We also have enough chips and dip to feed an army. Oh and this is Lorne." They dumped the food and drinks on the floor and Angel went to the kitchen to grab cutlery and plates. He felt Buffy follow him through and suddenly felt like a trapped animal.

"I said we need to talk."

The problem with trapped animals is that if they are pushed… they usually bite.

"Not now Buffy, lets just go out there and have a nice meal with our friends, ok? We can tackle the awkward questions in the morning."

"The awkward questions? Angel what is wrong with you? Why won't you talk to me? We have just been given the best news of our lives and you want to eat pizza? What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing is going on Buffy, I just want to have a nice evening and relax ok?"

"Is this because of Darla?"

"No Buffy, this has nothing to do with Darla. For once this is about me. I don't want to talk right now. I don't want to argue. So can we please just go and eat?" Angel turned to leave the kitchen.

"You don't get to drop a bombshell like that and just walk away! You owe me more than that. You walked out earlier and now we are going to talk!" Buffy grabbed his elbow and swung him round. Angel had never in his life stood for someone pushing him around. It provoked an unpleasant reaction in him.

"I owe you more than that! How do you figure that one Buffy? Because we dated?"

"We dated! Is that how you see what we had?"

"Yes Buffy, we dated, past tense. You made that abundantly clear when you came and flaunted Riley in my face last year."

"I never flaunted Riley!"

"Remind me, what was it you said? Oh yeah, that you loved him and you trusted him. Apparently something that you never felt for me. So you'll forgive me if my first thought wasn't you Buffy."

Angel grabbed the plates off the worktop and stormed out of the kitchen with Buffy hot on his heels. The others sensed that lives may be lost should they try to intervene and so stayed incredibly quiet.

"So this is about revenge for hurting your feelings? That's pathetic Angel, I never thought that you were so childish."

"Childish? You dare to call me childish? Who was the one that came here in order to kick Faith's ass just because she had messed up part of your perfect little life?"

"She deserved everything that she got!"

"Never mind the fact that she was a scared and troubled girl who had been used that many times that she didn't know who her friends were any more!"

"Don't you dare play the 'innocent Faith' card with me! Don't you dare! She ruined my life and yet all she has to do is bat her large brown eyes, toss her hair and heave her breasts a bit and you're falling over yourself to help her. Is that what happened with Darla too? Or were the memories of bloody fucks just too good to pass up?"

"I'd stop right there Buffy." Angel's voice became low and dangerous. Buffy was seriously out of line.

"Why? Does the truth hurt Angel? What did she offer you? A large fat cheque to oil your hero business or was the payment more in trade? I mean, come on! You are meant to be on a quest for redemption here Angelus! You are meant to be helping the… hopeless was it? Instead you help two serial killers, both of whom are not unattractive, so I have to question your motive's here a little!"

With every insult that they threw at each other Buffy's voice got louder and louder and Angel's got lower and darker. Of the two Angel, despite his mere mortal status seemed at that moment to be the more dangerous of the two. Buffy on the other hand appeared to be a normal girl in an argument with her boyfriend. She was shrieking and gesticulating wildly. She seemed totally out of her mind with jealousy and rage.

Angel was pissed beyond belief. His eyes had darkened to black and he seemed to grow in height. His beautiful features had transformed into a snarl. It was one thing to attack him on his past but it was quite another thing to attack him about what he doing now. Especially in such crude terms. If it was possible, his voice dropped further. It was in the sub-zero temperatures now

"You know nothing about what I do here – nothing! We help people here Buffy. We save souls. Faith and Darla have souls, I had to help them. But you wouldn't understand that. I mean it's a little more complex than beating up on any random demon and firing really terrible puns at it."

"Really? I thought that this was the meeting place of the Sunnydale misfits club. I mean how sad is that! A vampire with a soul, a crap watcher and the bitch that didn't make it as Prom Queen – it's like a bad movie or…"

"Leave Wesley and Cordelia out of this. They are good people and you have no right to judge them. Just because you wouldn't get off your damn pedestal back in Sunnydale and realise that…"

"Oh, so we're protecting Cordelia now are we? Or is that Cordy? I've got to say that I love the little set up that she has going here. She tried to get you back in Sunnydale and now she's moved herself in here."

"You don't even know her anymore Buffy!"

"I don't need to know her to know what she is like. She doesn't care about anything but money and having an attractive guy on her arm. Is she your next damsel in distress? Or perhaps you're lining her up for when you have finished saving Darla and Faith's souls!"

"Well she's a damn sight more attractive than you are right now! In fact, right now you are the last person on earth that I'd touch! I would rather…"

Angel's words were cut off as Buffy finally lost her temper. Forgetting his condition she hit him. Hard.

Angel's body flew back across the room like a rag doll, easily covering the ten feet it was to the stair rails and crashed into the wall. The flight seemed to go in slow motion and no one could do anything about it. Then suddenly everything moved back to real time. There was a sickening crack of bones heard in every corner of the hotel. He slumped to the ground in a boneless heap. Very slowly a small trickle of blood oozing from amongst his hair and started to spread across the polished floor.

"Oh God… Angel!"


	9. Hospital Beds and a Coffee Machine

Ok on with the tale. Its a bit of a filler chapter really but don't let that stop you.. Please read and review - it is really appreciated and thanks to those who have. A/N The title is based on a song by Savage Garden called Two Beds and a Coffee Machine and its about a domestic abuse victim. Its a lovely song really.

Chapter 9 – Hospital Beds and a Coffee Machine

"Oh God! Angel!"

Spike was the first to reach the crumpled figure at the foot of the stairs. He could smell blood and he could see that Angel's right arm was bent at an odd angle. What concerned him more was the fact that Angel was unconscious and Spike had no way of knowing what other damage had been done. The only comforting thought was that he was still breathing. Slayers could kill with a well aimed hit and the amount of force behind that one…

He grabbed Cordelia before she could touch him.

"Don't pet, we don't know what damage 'as been done. He may have hurt his neck or back an' I don't wanna move him."

Cordelia began to sob and not even thinking Spike pulled her into a hug, which he was surprised to find that she didn't reject.

"Ambulance is on its way! He gonna be ok?"

"Don't know Charlie… God I hope so."

If Angel died, Spike had no idea of what he would do, but he knew that there would be an awful lot of pain and death. Some of which might be his own. Ever practical, Wesley appeared from upstairs clutching a pile of woollen blankets to his chest. In situations like this he found that he had to do something.

"Blankets. Here Spike put these round him, we need to keep him warm so as to stop him going into shock. Try not to move him."

As Spike and Wesley carefully attempted to put the blankets over Angel without causing more damage, Cordelia was pulled into the arms of an equally scared Darla. At that moment the women shared a silent communion. Angel was their friend and they both loved him dearly. Right now, they needed to help each other. God help anyone who got in their way. They may be bitches, but they were Angel's btches.

"Do you want me to wait in the street for the ambulance?"

"That'd be appreciated Xander. Gunn, pull the car round so that we can follow the ambulance to the hospital."

"On it!"

"Lorne… Angel'd understand if you feel you can't…"

"Don't even go there Muffin. I care about the great lug as much as you do so save it I'm going."

"Cordy? Why don't you and Darla go and get a jumper. We don't know how long we'll be there and you won't want to sit in your coats all night."

Neither girl answered they just left, passing a very confused Riley on the stairs.

"Angel…"

"Take one more step towards him Buffy and you will find out how much I have changed since Sunnydale."

"Wesley… I didn't mean…"

"I don't care what you meant. You are a Slayer. You have no right to hit people. You could have killed him! Do you realise that? He may die yet as it is."

Not wanting to hear any more Buffy ran out of the building with a very concerned Willow and Riley following her.

"He's through here…"

Cordelia hated hospitals. They meant bad things and hurt friends. Angel had only been human for three days and he was already in hospital due to the one individual that was meant to protect mankind. Children got much longer than three days before they had to face the horrors that were in this world. Was it so wrong to expect or hope that Angel could have the same chance? Obviously it was. Cordy would never forget the looks on the faces of the paramedics as they tried to treat Angel, fearing to move him because he looked totally bent in half. There and then she decided that she would never forgive Buffy if Angel didn't recovery fully. Scratch that. If Angel didn't survive – neither would Buffy – it was written all over the faces of Spike and Darla. Spike was so distressed that he was having difficulty in remaining in human guise. He looked as though he was going to rip the throat out of the next doctor that passed them without giving them anymore information. As it was, any information would be welcomed. Cordy had never been so scared in her life.

Wesley couldn't sit still for a minute. He paced the corridors, read the posters and the leaflets, drank countless cups of coffee and talked to every doctor he could get his hands on. Nothing was helping. He couldn't get any word on his best friend and he was suddenly realising the very real truth that Angel was no longer invincible. It chilled him to the bone. He could very well lose Angel this night, not to a creature of the night, but to a warrior for the light. The irony was not lost on him. Nor was the fact that Buffy had done the very same thing that had caused Faith to go down the wrong road. The difference was that Faith had not meant to kill that man and Buffy had very definitely meant to hit Angel. This was no accident and could not be excused.

He glanced at Cordelia, she looked a mess. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a rough ponytail. Her eyes were red and puffy and there was mascara tracks down her face. If there was a greater sign that Cordelia Chase cared it was that she hadn't bothered to make herself attractive for all the doctors. Spike looked totally stressed out. He couldn't smoke so was busy chewing his nails down to the cuticles and picking at the hem of his t-shirt. Darla looked calm, but from her eerie silence he knew that she was anything but. The same went for Lorne as the loud demon was as silent and still as the grave. And didn't Wesley wish he hadn't thought of that. Gunn looked younger than Wesley had thought possible. A little boy dressed up in his big brother's place.

Gunn had thought that he was hardened to life. He always was cut deeply if he lost one of his crew to a vamp attack. However, he had never realised that he didn't view Angel and the rest as his crew. These people were his family. He didn't think that he would have that again. Now he was only realising it as he may be on the verge of loosing it. He felt just as helpless as he had done when he found a demon wearing the body of his sister. Why were the ones that he loved always the casualties? He watched as a doctor started down the corridor and couldn't be bothered to look up. They were never going to tell them anything. Then the doctor paused in front of him.

"Are you waiting for news on Liam O'Donnell?" Spike and Darla had provided Angel's real name. Darla had been unpleasantly surprised to find that she wasn't the only one to know that privileged information. But until Angel recovered she and Spike were allies.

"Yes we are Doctor. What can you tell us?" Wesley was in front of the doctor before he had finished saying Angel's name. Spike wasn't far behind him.

"Are any of you family?"

"We're all family mate. Just tell us what the bloody hell is wrong with him!" Spike could feel the chip in his head giving off warning twinges as he imagined all the ways that this doctor and the Slayer were going to die if Angel wasn't going to be ok.

"Spike, behave." Darla shared the vicious thoughts that Spike was having but at the moment she needed the doctor to tell her what was wrong with her boy and then she would set about unleashing her anger. What she didn't want was for Spike's explosive temper to get them thrown out. She wished that she was a vampire still. She could do with not caring about people right at this moment.

"Well, despite his injuries he is a very lucky man. His arm wasn't broken but we've bandaged it tightly as it is very badly sprained. He does however have 3 cracked ribs. One of the ribs punctured a lung; we managed to re-inflate it. We don't expect there to be any lasting damage though. His face and side are badly bruised, so he may have trouble eating and swallowing when he comes round. What we are most worried about though is the possibility of head injury. There is a hairline fracture at the base of his skull. Now, none of the CAT scans show any bleeding or swelling below the cranium but he hasn't regained consciousness yet. We won't know if there is any permanent damage until he wakes up. He isn't in a coma though; if he were we'd be a little more concerned."

"So he could be ok?" Cordelia didn't understand half of what was said. She just wanted the bottom line – was Angel going to be ok.

"There is every chance that he'll make a full recovery. Now we will be taking him through to ICU in a few moments and you will be allowed to go in and see him. No more than two at a time. I will say that for the moment he is on a ventilator. That is to help with his breathing. There are a lot of tubes and machines and it all looks very scary. It is all there to help him though. Many of the machines will be beeping but don't let that alarm you. It all looks worse than it actually is.

The police may be by to take a statement from each of you." Upon seeing their blank looks he decided to continue. "Due to the extent of his injuries and the way you said you found him, we had no choice but to call the police. I am afraid that it is routine procedure."

He noticed that they all glanced at each other but decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Having a loved one in this condition was a trying time for anyone and they seemed exceptionally distressed by this. In his experience, people weren't that good at acting.

"Now if you'll excuse me I have rounds to make. There are people around if you have any questions and a nurse will fetch you when he has been moved. He is a healthy young man, I am sure that he'll be just fine."

The doctor offered them a reassuring smile and left.

"What did he say Wes? How bad is it really because my high school biology covered none of that." Cordelia needed the reaffirmation from Wes that every thing would be ok. Wesley was information guy – he would tell her what was going on, he always did.

"Basically, he said that Angel is pretty badly beaten up but that he'll make a full recovery." There was no way that he was going to tell her there was the possibility of brain damage. That knowledge might just kill her.

"Don't lie to her Watcher. Tell her the truth. Tell her that Slutty almost killed him. That he could have died if they hadn't re-inflated the lung. Tell her that when he wakes up he may have brain damage and be a bloody vegetable for the rest of his life. Don't lie to her – the chit needs the truth right now." Spike was furious that Wesley was skimming over this. He knew that he was trying to protect Cordelia but she needed reality right now.

The response to Spike's outburst was a swift sharp slap – from Darla.

"Spike, if you do not calm down right now I swear to all that is unholy, that I will put everything that I learnt as a vampire to good use on your pathetic carcass. Angel does not need us fighting. Anyone who wishes to fight had better leave right now."

Darla may have the appearance of a weak and feeble woman but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was anything but. She would kill them all in a heartbeat to protect Angel and right now none of them wanted to be the one in her way. Spike felt uncharacteristically sorry for his ex-Great Grand Sire. All she really had right now was Angel and she may lose him.

"What are you dong here?" Cordelia's voice was harsh and cold and they all knew who it was aimed at.

"Is he alright?" Buffy wasn't a coward but she didn't want to have to face this group right now. They all looked ready to kill her. Having her friends behind her didn't give her the support that it usually did in these situations. She felt very alone.

"I think that you had better leave."

"Darla, I am not here to fight I just need to know that he is ok. Please." Buffy wasn't above begging, but Darla didn't care.

"You don't get to know that. In fact, you don't get to come near him at all. If I were you right now, I would be back at the hotel and packing my bags because there is no way in hell that you are staying there after this. If I see you near him, near the hotel or near any of us I will call the police." Darla didn't know when it had happened but Angel's friends had become 'we' and even Spike was included. Buffy wasn't going to cause any more damage.

"Call the police?" Buffy had expected threats of brutal and eternal torture. In comparison this seemed mundane. To Giles, Willow and Riley however, this threat had them very, very worried.

"You assaulted a man. We saw you hit Angel. Buffy, my sweet little fuck up, if we went to the police right now, you would be looking at charges of no less than attempted murder." Darla was cold. This threat was serious; for once there was no pleasure to be got out of doing this. She just wanted Buffy away from all of them.

"What! She just hit him, she didn't mean for this to happen!" Xander knew that the blonde ex-vampire was a bitch but he had no idea of how evil she really was. Buffy on the other hand had sunk into a chair. She could go to jail… She had almost killed Angel. All the fight left her. If a vampire had attacked her at that moment, she would have died, quickly.

"That doesn't really matter boy. What matters, is that Angel is lying in a room hooked up to a ventilator with a hairline fracture in his skull, three cracked ribs and a punctured lung. Oh, didn't you know that the damage was that bad? There is also the possibility that he may have brain damage. Now I don't know about you but when someone I love ends up in that state, I have this insane need for revenge. And before you open that mouth again think on this. Wolfram and Hart may hate Angel, but I am sure they would be delighted to put another Slayer in prison and leave the Hellmouth at their mercy."

The simple truth of that statement caused each individual to freeze. If Buffy went to prison then there would be no slayer to guard the Hellmouth, or the rest of the world. Also, the bare and basic way in which Angel's injuries had been listed, not embellished or described made them seem all the more serious. The possibility of brain damage hung over their heads like a guillotine.

"Get out of here Slayer. Darla may like to threaten you with the law but me? I'd rather use my own brand of justice. Now unless you want to learn what a rail road spike feels like as it enters your flesh I'd get out of here." The lack of accent made Spike's words more brutal.

Not risking the wrath of either Aurelian, Giles quietly guided Buffy to her feet and told Riley to take her out to the car. Xander stormed off after them, disgusted at the behaviour of Cordelia and Wesley as they hadn't tried to stop Darla or Spike. Giles turned to the LA crew.

"I doubt that we'll be going back to Sunnydale immediately. I do not think that it would be… Well I know that I do not want us to return with any animosity lingering here." He turned to leave but stopped himself. "For what it is worth, Buffy never meant to hurt him, she just didn't consider her actions."

"Neither did Faith Mr Giles, and look at what we did to her. Buffy seems to rely on her fists to sort problems. Angel was meant to be the monster, but he always tried to talk. Please, tell me, does this seem natural?" Wesley didn't care for any platitudes from Giles in defence of his slayer.

Giles could say nothing to that so he nodded and left.

"Tara and I will try to make a salve that should help with his injuries. Please keep me informed?" Willow knew that it would be quite useless to plead Buffy's innocence to them. They knew that she hadn't meant for it to go this far, but they were worried about their badly injured friend. She would be the same if the situation was reversed.

In fact she recalled that after Faith poisoning Angel, they had been that way with him, when he had been forced to feed from Buffy. He wasn't even in the wrong that time either.

She gave all of them a hug – even Darla – took Tara's hand and left. Only Anya remained. "Can I stay?"

Angel had been in hospital for two days and awake for a day and a half. His friends had been so pleased to see him that he felt guilty about having them worry. However, he felt honoured that he had a family that cared so much. They had stayed for as long as the doctors would let them. Spike even growled at an orderly that tried to get them to leave before Darla had dragged him out. It amused Angel to see them getting on. They had to be either really worried about him or up to something to be getting along like that. He wasn't going to rule out either.

Anya had been a pleasant surprise. She was staying at the hotel still and had not moved out with the Scoobies. He felt very bad for her. She seemed as confused about becoming human as Darla and he were. He and Anya were similar in many respects. The main one being the fact that he was unable to relate easily to the human world. He hoped that he could help her. She also found the black and white attitude of the Scoobies quite threatening. He could relate. She came to sit with him when the others couldn't. He was glad to have her as company, she made him laugh. Her stories and inappropriate comments brought out the Liam in him. She seemed to enjoy all of his stories as well, even the demon ones. Cordelia commented that they seemed to be setting up a mutual admiration society for their evil deeds. He didn't care. It was nice to be able to talk to someone besides Darla and Spike so freely. More importantly, she seemed to need a friend as much as he did

He also found that he liked morphine. His ribs hurt like a bitch and he kept getting headaches. But the morphine was like manna from Heaven. The doctors told him that he was lucky – he could have suffered brain damage. He had to agree, he knew what Buffy could have done to him. He would be lying however, if he said that he felt as lucky as they made. He was in a lot of pain. It hurt to breath, to swallow, to move; generally it just hurt to be awake. What he really wanted was to go to sleep and only wake up when all the pain had gone. It was sod's law that every time he did fall asleep a doctor or an orderly or someone would come in to check something and wake him up. That made for a cranky Angel.

He was also angry and hurt. Angry at his friends for treating Buffy badly and hurt that Buffy felt that she had the right to hit him, human or not. He understood that his friends were angry at Buffy and that they were trying to protect him, but he wished that they could have dealt with each other a little more peacefully. Now, rather than concentrate on getting better, he knew that he would have to play peacemaker. He didn't want them to go back to Sunnydale with this hanging over them. Also he was angry at the fact that they had gotten involved in a fight that was between him and Buffy. He may not be physically as strong as he was but he could still fight his own battles, he didn't need to be protected from the world anymore than they did.

He still couldn't believe that Buffy had hit him. She had wanted to really hurt him, and hadn't trusted that her words would have the desired affect, so she had hit him. He felt that she had betrayed him somehow. He was hurt that she had attacked him, hurt that she had yelled at him and hurt that she had been uninterested in his life until it suited her. Overriding all of that though was a great deal of worry. He was worried about how she was handling this.

He had told the police that he wouldn't be pressing charges as he didn't see the person, but that he would contact them if he remembered anything else. He had asked his friends to not pursue this either, to not tell the police or to keep arguing with the Scoobies. He didn't want any friendships destroyed because of him, so he had told them that he didn't want them to be enemies on his behalf – it wouldn't mean that much to him. He thanked them for their support but told them that all he really wanted was for his friends to be friends. If they couldn't though, he wouldn't force the issue.

He knew that a lot of damage was already done though. There was no way that Spike would be going back to Sunnydale, even if the Scoobies wanted him too. That didn't upset Angel too much as he was happy at the possibility of Spike staying. He was elated when he found out that his team weren't going to be upset if Spike stayed. The fierce loyalty that he and Darla had shown, protecting and defending him had earned them a place at the hotel for as long as they wanted. It also looked as though Anya would be welcomed to stay if she decided not to go back to Sunnydale with Xander. He hoped that she did, for her sake, as she may be really mad at him but he could see that she loved the idiot boy. He hoped that Xander would apologise for both their sakes. If not, then Anya was a welcomed addition to the family.

He felt that he would have to rename the Hyperion to something that reflected its ability to draw in waifs and strays. Perhaps he'd start calling it Perdita - Latin for the lost. Or maybe Cordelia wouldn't let him and he'd have to leave it as it was. He smiled as he imagined telling her that he had decided to call the hotel Bob. She'd probably would have a fit, threaten him and then banish him to his room whilst she went out to cause serious damage to his credit card. She'd return a few hours later, laden with bags from stores he had never heard of and forgive him. The hotel however, would remain known as the Hyperion.

He had learnt two things of great importance though over the past two days. Number one, hospital gowns were the most embarrassing thing to wear. Especially around Spike, who seemed to be enjoying the view way too much. Two, hospital food was the greatest torment that could be devised. In fact, had he been forced to eat some of this stuff whilst in hell, he may have never recovered. Thankfully the Devil was not that cruel. It seemed that it took a human soul and a kitchen to be truly evil. He still had another two days to survive this torture, although Gunn had promised him a McDonald's and Cordelia was insisting on bringing a healthy salad for him. For the moment however, he would have to survive on the grapes that Wesley had brought. (Ever the Englishman.)

He was brought out of his musings by one of the orderlies, Jake – the badge said, bringing him the phone. He put the phone card into the slot and dialled the number that he could only remember due to the fact that vampires practically had photographic memories. Otherwise, the only number that he would know would be Cordelia's. He waited until it was picked up at the other end.

"Hey. It's Angel."


	10. Silencing Blondes can be Fulfilling

After about ten phone calls begging whoever picked up the phone, Angel had managed to procure his release from hospital. He was beginning to wish he hadn't put the effort in though. He had three permanent nurse-maids in Cordelia, Spike and Darla, who couldn't agree on anything, Lorne was in and out and always loud and Wesley kept fluttering around. The only thing keeping him sane was the presence of Gunn and Anya. Gunn was just his usual cool self, coming and going as he did and playing video games with Angel for as long as he had time. That usually meant until one of the three Stooges kicked him out. Anya was a breath of fresh air. He loved her sense of humour – she was like Darla and Cordy without the bitchy filling. It was a comfort to him to have someone as lost as he was around. They spent the best part of the day watching TV and discussing their demon halcyon days. He found it soothing.

He was not allowed to leave his bedroom at all. He was under house arrest and practically guarded by the three meanies as he had come to know them. In a way it was good because he got the rest he needed to heal but it was driving him insane. He wasn't used to having to wait to heal. It was usually stab, drink bllod, sleep, all better. So having to wait around all day was grating on his nerves. By 4pm two days after he came home he had had enough and got himself out of bed. His ribs were killing him and his head swam as he stood but he was determined to go and sit downstairs. He pulled a t-shirt on and padded out of his room. He was shocked that he got that far, Spike usually heard him if he so much as breathed. When he got to the balcony he realised why he had got so far, the three meanies were having another fight…

"It's a normal human custom, just because neither of you know what its like to be human, don't try to criticise me!"

"'M just saying that it is a bloody stupid custom! How is it meant to help anyone?"

"I agree with Willie, humans never were that bright."

"Talking about your own kind there Granny."

"I think that you might want to rephrase that address William! Just remember who you are talking to!" Darla's eyes had narrowed to slits and her hands were curled into fists.

"A tragic fake blonde?"

"Yeah like you can talk! The eighties ended a while ago _Willie. _I realise that you're dead but that is no excuse for poor fashion sense."

"Don't you start Cheerleader! Or I might have to mention the conversation that I overheard the other day. Something about a ghost and a talent with massage oils…"

Angel saw Spike's triumphant smirk and had to admit that he too was curious about Cordelia's relationship with her ghost. Something told him that it went quite a way beyond what anyone would define as normal. By now he had made it to the top of the stairs. Luckily they were all too focused on one another to see him. As he started down the stairs he began to think that he had made a mistake in getting out of bed. His ribs were on fire and the room was starting to swirl around him. It was pretty that way. Although, he had to admit that had he stayed in bed he would be missing the very entertaining floor show. All he needed now was a bucket of pop-corn. Rather than continue down the steps he decided that he would rather sit than end up in a tangled heap at the bottom and so gingerly lowered himself to sit on one. Gunn noticed him and he put a finger to his lips, hoping that Gunn would take the hint and stay silent for a while longer.

"Listen Bleached Blunder – its rude to listen to other people's conversations. Haven't you heard of a little thing called tact?"

"Well you sure haven't." Angel could imagine the eye roll that accompanied Darla's comment. He was just waiting for Cordy to slap one of them and for the fight to begin. The image of Cordy, Darla and Spike engaging in a huge cat fight in the middle of his lobby began to play in the back of his head.

He could see it all happening in slow motion. Cordy would slap Darla, who, being Darla would retaliate by grabbing a fist full of Cordy's hair. Cordy would then screech in fury and start flailing about, one of her wild smacks hitting Spike squarely across the jaw. Spike would then roar in outrage and plough into the two women, catapulting all three of them to the floor. Once there they became a six legged, six armed, three headed beast. They were all writhing and flailing limbs and frustrated groans. He wasn't sure when the clothes came off or when the baby oil came out but they were interesting additions. A sharp intake of breath at the image of Spike and Darla and Cordy, caused him to hiss in pain and three pairs of eyes focused on him. He froze. He was so dead. He couldn't help laughing though as a permanent image of the bitch fight was engraved on his brain.

He slowly rose to his feet as they advanced on him. A three headed, six armed, six legged nursing machine.

"Uh, Guys? I can explain…"

Sensing that they might not be willing to listen to his reasoning he fell back on to plan B; he clutched his side and let out a pain filled whimper. Spike shot across the lobby and wrapped his arms around Angel taking his weight. He practically carried Angel down the stairs to lay him on the sofa. As the three of them scattered to fetch him painkillers, water and blankets and pillows he turned to Gunn and Anya. Both were looking at him in awe.

"That was impressive." Gunn had to laugh; Angel had the three of them wrapped around all eight of his fingers and both thumbs.

"Very." Anya smiled and moved to sit on the sofa with him.

"Why thank you. I'll be giving lessons all week. What were they fighting over anyway?"

Gunn and Anya exchanged looks before bursting out laughing. All that Angel could get from the gasps and the giggles was "Chicken soup."

Inside the air conditioned offices of Wolfram and Hart the only sanctuary that could be found was one from the scorching LA heat. Or that could just be the flames of hell that had been lit under the asses of all members of the Special Projects division. It would be quite wrong to say that the Senior Partners were angry because they weren't. They were raining fire and brimstone.

Not only had they failed to get Angel to turn into Angelus but more importantly they had lost Angel. The vampire with a soul, the one that they were relying upon to help bring about the Apocalypse was now human! He wouldn't be bringing anything about. Not a thing! There would be no apocalypse for a while now, unless they could find a way to give another vampire a soul and on a scale of one to ten with ten being the smallest chance they could find a suitable candidate… they weren't rating at all.

The fire and brimstone hadn't even begun to cover the Darla debacle. It was bad enough that they had lost Angel, but the fact that Angel had been lost to one of their schemes and the fact that said scheme was now human and therefore not going away anytime soon was not of the good. Had Darla died from the syphilis then there may have been some forgiveness. Had Darla been a vampire there may have been a little more forgiveness, but as it was, they were looking at the beginning of an eternity of pain and damnation. Being a lawyer was beginning to suck.

Lilah and Lindsay were both sat at opposite sides of the conference table watching Holland Manners define the meaning of furious. His eyes were popping out of his head and he was an unnatural shade of purple. They wouldn't have been too surprised to see steam pour out of his ears. In fact in this place, had he spontaneously combusted they wouldn't have battered an eyelid. He was very close to doing that right now.

"Tell me that we have some ideas on this! Because the Senior Partners are not going to be at all impressed if the best that I can give them in the morning is that we are _thinking_ about the problem. It is bad enough that I have to tell them that the Slayer almost killed him. I do not want to go in there and tell them that we have nothing."

Lilah and Lindsay were both used to Holland's temper but on this occasion he was right. The Senior Partner's had an unhealthy interest in Angel. Unhealthy for anyone who got in the way of it. At the moment they had no clue as to how to solve this little problem and both got the sense that they wouldn't be leaving the room until it was solved. Work ethics really didn't count when you were working for very scary demons.

"Well at the moment sir we are looking over the files. I am sure that…"

"Don't give me that crap Lilah. I don't want platitudes or promises or implications. What I want is facts! What the hell do we know!"

Lindsay decided that no matter how much he loved watching Lilah stew in it, he was in just as much trouble as she was and that if anyone was going to go down, Holland wouldn't hesitate to implicate one of them. He just had to do everything to make sure that it wasn't him.

"What Lilah means is that we are looking and we'll call as soon as we have something."

Lindsay offered a tight smile to Holland and an amused grin to Lilah who seemed ready to eat him. Holland said no more he just swept from the room, the door shaking its frame as it slammed shut.

"You've invited her here? After what happened?" Cordelia was aghast. Angel had only been out of hospital for four days and somehow he had managed to decide to forgive Buffy and invite her and her cheer squad over for dinner tomorrow night. Who the hell said that he was allowed to think for himself anymore?

"Yes I have. They, including Buffy, are coming over, with food, after they finish a patrol of the demon areas of LA tomorrow. Apparently the slayer in Buffy is getting restless and she needs to have a good fight."

"Yeah, cos pulverising your skinny white ass wouldn't have been satisfying enough."

Cordy was not about to let this go, Lorne noticed. He admired Angel for being the good guy here but none of them could stop this girl if things got out of hand and she thought that Angel suited the shades of black and blue he was currently sporting.

"Look guys, I get that you are worried about me. I get that you don't like Buffy at the moment. I get that you are probably scared for yourselves too. But, Buffy is my friend and I have given you all chances. Darla, you turned me. Gunn, tried to kill me, as did Wes. Spike – do we have to go over the poker incident? And Cordy, well I have to put up with you…no seriously, you were also on the 'kill Angelus' squad. I have to give her a chance too – otherwise I am not a good friend."

"Bullshit Angelus! That girl has already sent you to hell and you are willing to allow her to try it again? I will not stand for that!"

"You don't have to stand for it, Darla. You aren't my Sire anymore and so I don't have to take orders from you. You are, however, my friend and a guest in my home. All I ask in return for that is that you tolerate my other friends. I don't ask that you are best friends with anyone or that you greet them with open arms. I do demand that you are polite with them, that is all. If any of you feel that you can't do that then I suggest you aren't here when they arrive. I want a nice evening and I want all of you there, more than I want the others there. However, if you are going to cause problems then please, for my sake, go home. I have said exactly the same to them."

"Angelcakes, I think that I speak for everyone here when I say that we are only being this way because you are our favourite ami. Everyone is used to you being the indestructible member of the group and to see you lying in that hospital bed was not a pretty picture to say the least. We're not comfortable in allowing small blonde and deadly in here not because we have a problem with her.."

"Speak for yourself."

"Ahem."

"Ok, some of us have a problem with her, but the main reason for all of us is that she hurt you. There was no justification to her actions. We wouldn't be good friends if we were breaking out the margaritas to welcome her here."

"I appreciate that Lorne but I had hoped that you can trust me enough to let me make my own choices about friends. I have respected you enough on this. Please do the same for me."

The group was silent. None of them were happy with this situation but it was obvious that Angel would not be moved on this issue. They had two choices. Accept it or leave. As no one was willing to lose Angel as a friend, and as Cordy and Darla were adamant that they would not lose anything to Buffy Summers, they all had to agree to his requests. At least he hadn't said that they couldn't act bitchy towards her, they just had to be polite about it. Each left the room with their own affirmation that they would try to support Angel in this and went downstairs to await Gunn and Wes' return. Only Spike, who had said nothing throughout the entire pow-wow, remained. He watched as Angel flopped back onto his bed, covering his eyes with his hands, feet still on the floor. He moved closer to the body splayed attractively on the bed.

"You alright pet? That was a bit brutal if you ask me." He watched Angel very closely. Angel didn't move.

"Fine. So, come on then, let's hear your opinion. After all, you are my biggest critic and you're not exactly silent on your opinion of Buffy. So, how stupid do you think I'm being?"

"Don't have an opinion."

"Now I know I'm dreaming, because I thought that you said you didn't have an opinion. You always have an opinion. You're the most opinionated person I know… after Cordelia. So I know that you have an opinion and call me a masochist but I want to hear it."

Spike shrugged his shoulders and took another step forward so that he was stood between Angel's legs, his jeans lightly touching the material of Angel's combats.

"Sorry luv but I don't have an opinion on this."

"I know I'm going to regret this." Angel uncovered his eyes so that he could see the game that Spike was playing. "Why don't you have an opinion Spike?"

"Cos Ducks, I am a lot smarter than those nits out there. Plus, I know what you're doin'."

At this Angel propped himself up on his elbows and cocked his head to the right so as to better regard the smug blond in front of him. For his part, Spike didn't think that he had ever seen a more enticing display and his cock twitched at the position he was in.

"And what is it that I am doing Oh Wise One?"

When Spike replied, Angel had to bite his cheek to prevent the bubble of laughter that threatened to overwhelm him at the upper class accent that Spike affected. Although it was pretty damn close to his natural one, Angel was so used to the bleached, punk Cockney that the voice seemed quite ridiculous.

"Your reasoning here is threefold. One, you actually do still care for Miss Summers and genuinely want to be her friend. To that end forgiveness is necessary. Two, you hope that in forgiving Buffy, the others will see their own errors in how they handled Faith. In doing so they might forgive her and then all can move on with their lives quite happily. Third and final, you hope that they can forgive you for all the damage that you caused as Angelus. That this makes you equal and you no longer have worry about the guilt. You can let it go."

Angel was awestruck. "You frighten me sometimes. When did you become so perceptive?"

Spike gave a small laugh. "Not perceptive Peaches, just know you is all."

"How is it out of everyone, you know me the best?"

"What can I say except people usually study that which intrigues them?"

"I intrigue you?" Angel wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

"You could say that."

Spike obviously wasn't going to give anything away. Angel wanted answers. Angel suddenly became very aware of how close Spike was to him and the way that Spike was looking at him. His eyes were so dilated that instead of looking at the brilliant blue he was so fond of, he found he was staring into obsidian orbs that wanted to eat him alive. Enjoying the jolts of excitement that were tap-dancing their way up his nerves, he realised he knew how to get answers out of Spike. He wanted to play. Angelus was a natural seducer, was there any reason as to why he shouldn't use that to his advantage?

He allowed a little of his natural accent to flow into his words. "Why do I interest you Sweet William?" As he spoke he tightened his thighs around Spike's legs and jerked, pulling the blond down on top of him. Spike stopped himself by bracing an arm on either side of Angel's head, his lips millimetres from Angel's. Spike's eyes began to glow gold with arousal. He licked his lips.

"Well you're full of surprises ain't you pet?"

He moved closer. Unfortunately, he didn't get time to enjoy his position. In a movement worthy of the vampire he had been Angel grabbed Spike's wrists and flipped them over.

"I'll ask again. What is it about me that interests you?"

He let each word caress Spike's face. Spike's cocky attitude had vanished under the lust and shock that was coursing through his systems caused by Angel's actions. He opened his mouth to answer but he was intercepted by Cordelia yelling to announce to the others were back with dinner.

"I'll be right down." As if to demonstrate his words he ground his body down on to Spike and he kissed the air just over Spike's lips. As Spike leaned up, Angel hopped off the bed. He made to leave the room. Once he got to the door he paused, curling his fingers around the handle he turned back to the blonde on the bed.

"Coming?"

The voice that he adopted was neutral and innocent but the raised eyebrow and the curled tongue that he bit and held between his teeth were anything but. He left the room, just missing the pillow that crashed into the door, having been thrown viciously at his head. The strangled yell of "Fucking cock-tease!" followed him down the corridor.

He bounced down the steps. Gunn took one look at the grinning Angel and had to ask. "You look pleased with yourself."

Wesley also noted the chipper Angel and found his curiosity piqued. "Yes you do. What have you done?"

Angel took in their looks of keen amusement, curiosity and slight terror and let out the giggle that had been building in his throat. "Let's just say that I have finally rendered Spike speechless."

A pin hitting the floor could have been heard in the farthest corners of the hotel in the silence that followed that comment. Then as one they all clamoured to know how the miracle had been achieved. Shutting Spike up was a dream. It was the definition of perfection and had Angel achieved it… well, he would be an angel for real. Angel began to put away the weapons, affecting disinterest at the cacophony of:

"How?"

And, "What's the secret?"

And, "I've been trying to accomplish that since he arrived!" that resounded through the lobby.

Before he could share his precious secret Spike stomped down the stairs, making much more noise than was necessary. He was obviously pissed.

"Problem Spike?" Cordy enquired innocently, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. At times, her acting skills were really challenged.

Spike growled as he responded, eyes a dangerous golden colour. "Nothing that can't be fixed with a really good, violent kill."

He reached over Angel to grab a sword from the weapons cabinet. It wasn't until Angel innocently enquired, "Need a hand with that?", that he noticed his position. Angel was kneeling on the floor with Spike's crotch at eye level. The lick of the lips and the puppy dog eyes sent a bolt of lust to Spike's groin. With a hiss of "Bastard!" he stormed out of the hotel, leaving the others to deal with the madly giggling Angel.

They had been looking at the files for days. Numerous coffee cups and sandwich wrappers had been pushed to one end of the table. Lilah was now sat on the floor with her files spread around her, whilst Lindsay was still sat at the table, but had thrown his useless files on the floor. He flicked through the last one.

"Nothing."

"Same here. Unless we turn him again there is not that much we could do. Personally, I don't see the Partners going for us dragging any old vamp off the street to turn him and then shove a soul…"

Lilah trailed off as Lindsay leapt to his feet and started to flick through all of the files that they had. He was looking for something. A few minutes later and a triumphant look crossed his face. He threw two files at her and went to dial Holland. Lilah couldn't help the wicked smile that graced her face as she glanced at the files. One read 'Soul Restoration; Rosenberg, Willow.' The second read 'Drusilla'.


	11. Once You’re Outside You’re Still in the ...

Chapter 11 – Once You're Outside You're Still in the Middle of the Fucking Desert.

The next morning Angel was stood in his bedroom, dressed and ready to leave the hotel for the first time since he had been let home. His stomach felt a little queasy, about where he was going and about tonight. Wesley wasn't helping.

"Are you sure that you are up to this Angel? I am sure that Faith would quite understand if you don't feel quite well enough. I could go and…"

"Wesley, I am fine. You are worse than Cordelia and I thought that she was the ultimate Mother Hen in this group! I've had the lecture from Darla, from Gunn, from Cordy and from Spike. I think that I could tell you what you are meant to say to me, so spare me the lecture daddy. I have to go and see Faith. For one thing I owe it to her to explain what has happened to me and I need to let her know that I am still there for her."

"I appreciate that 'son', but you have only just got out of hospital. You are recovering from some major trauma. Also, well, what are you going to tell her about your injuries?"

"The truth. And I've been out a week."

"Five days. Do you think that is wise? This may mean that it is impossible for Buffy and Faith to ever be friends. Do you want that?"

"No, Wes I don't. But Faith measures herself and how others see her against Buffy. She needs to know that even Buffy – the Golden Child of the Watcher's Council – can make mistakes. Not only that but she needs to know that I will forgive Buffy for this. I need to give her the hope that people will forgive her eventually."

Wesley listened to what Angel said and was struck, not for the first time, by the compassion that the man who had once been the worst ever vampire was capable of. Not only that but at the extent of understanding that Angel had of the human psyche. It made him shiver to think about how that knowledge had been used in the past.

"I appreciate that Angel, really I do. I think that it is above commendable that you want to help Faith, especially after she almost killed you. But perhaps it would be better if you went to talk to Buffy first. I am sure that she is feeling terrible."

Angel looked Wesley dead in the eye and couldn't help but feel a little guilty that he hadn't talked to Buffy yet. He had invited them all over, but he had done it through Willow. He knew that Buffy had been banned from seeing him in the hospital and he hadn't done anything to lift that ban. He hadn't spoken to her in the week since the accident and truthfully he didn't want to. He wanted her to suffer but the damn conscious that he had developed and finely tuned over the past century wouldn't stop niggling at him; whispering that he wasn't being fair and that he should give her the benefit of the doubt. Hence, tonight, and the hotel full of angry exs, cheerleaders and assorted vagrants.

"I know Wes, I do… It's just that I am going to talk to her tonight. I can't bring myself to talk to her on her own just yet. Please don't mention this to the others but I am a little scared about seeing her. I am also still really hurt by what she did. She had no right to hit me. She did it once before, when I defended Faith. She got angry that I wouldn't let her follow Faith and take her revenge and she hit me. I sometimes worry that she'll end up relying upon her strength too much and one day will hurt someone that she really loves. She wouldn't cope if she killed someone. Faith's a lot stronger than Buffy and she hardly coped."

He let his sentence trail off as he saw the understanding enter into Wes' eyes. He had to wonder whether all watchers were so perceptive or whether Wes was the cream of the crop. If that was the case then Angel was glad to have him and the council had lost something of worth. What was that Othello quote? Oh yeah, "_of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe_". Sometimes he felt that that was the best way to describe the way the Council had treated Wes. He was a rare person.

"Ok Angel, I understand, I think. Is there anything that I can do to help? Take you to the prison perhaps?"

"No its ok, I want to drive. Haven't been out in the car since I became sun friendly. Looking forward to it." Angel smiled at the idea of the sun beating down on him and the wind whipping through his hair as he drove with the top down.

"I think that I understand that. What time will you be back?" Wes smiled at the excitement he heard bubbling under Angel's voice.

"Well my visit isn't until two and I'll be there for an hour so I'd say that I'll be back at about five. Depending on traffic. Want me to pick up the food on the way back?"

"No I think that it would be best to wait and see what everyone wants."

"Yeah, that sounds sensible. You'll help me tonight won't you? I know that you're mad at Buffy and that you hate the way the Sunnydale lot treat people, but I can't cope with keeping the peace and facing Buffy."

Angel's voice held a note of desperation, at was as if he was begging Wes for help. Wes was always a sucker for a desperate plea, and he knew that Angel was seriously worried about this evening. He knew that Angel was going to have a hard time tonight. Darla and Cordelia would be a handful. They were bad enough when they were separate but as a team, they would be a nightmare. Add Spike into that equation and Angel practically had the makings of World War Three in his hotel. Oh Wes was going to help him despite his own personal feelings.

"Don't worry about it Angel. I am sure that everyone will be on their best behaviour – after all I think that last week's performance will be hanging over their heads. Now go – it's quite a drive and you don't want to be late."

Wes smiled and watched as Angel began to leave the room. Buoyed up by Angel's own generous spirit he decided to follow Angel's example. "Give my best wishes to Faith."

The smile that he got in return for that simple sentence was worth more than all the praise his father could ever give him.

The drive to the prison that housed Faith was an experience that Angel would love to do over. It was a beautifully clear LA day. He hadn't seen skies that blue other than from behind a piece of glass and several feet of air, for over two hundred years. The sun was beating down making it hot when the car was at a standstill but when the car was moving – it was heaven. The breeze was heaven. He felt as if God was stroking him, wrapping his arms around him. He imagined that this was what flying felt like.

Wesley waited an hour until he picked up the phone and dialled the number for the hotel that the Sunnydale lot were staying at. Deciding that Willow was probably the best middle man he asked Giles if he could speak to them. He made sure that he was polite and courteous to Giles on the phone, he didn't want there to be any more problems than there were already.

"Hey Wesley, how are you and what can I do for you?" Willow sounded very chipper.

"I am fine Willow, I hope that you are enjoying LA. I was hoping that I might impose upon you. Tonight is going to be difficult, on both sides. I know that you are just as worried about it as I am, but my priority is Angel."

"I get that Wesley, I do. I'm just not sure what you want me to do about it." Willow felt a nervous tickle begin in her stomach, he was right that tonight would be bad.

"I think that we should all meet this afternoon, before Angel comes back. That way we can air out all of our grievances and it can be a calm atmosphere for Angel tonight. If I am honest, I am not at all bothered about anyone's feelings but Angel's. He has earned his redemption Willow; all he wanted to do is celebrate it with his friends."

There was a pause on the line, but Wes knew that Willow was merely considering how she could get everyone to the hotel. He was certain that he could hear her resolve face in her voice when she spoke.

"Right. Well I agree. Everyone will be at the hotel in an hour, is that ok? What time is Angel back?"

"He said about five. That would give us about three hours to hash out everything. You think that will be enough time?" There was the slightest glimmer of hope in his voice.

"Well we're not miracle workers or anything, and we have saved the world on a shorter time scale. This can't be any harder than that. Can it?"

The silence that followed her question gave her the answer that she needed.

"Ok then. See you in an hour. We'll bring lunch."

"Thank you Willow."

"Anything for Angel."

The dial tone was quite welcomed. Wes took a deep breath and went into the lobby to tell everyone what he had done. He wasn't sure who had the worse job, Willow or himself.

_The leer jet touched down on the tarmac. As soon as it had come to a halt, the wheels had stopped smoking and the engines had been cut, a group of twenty men ran onto the runway. Within fifteen minutes they had erected a completely covered walkway that started at the plane door, went down the steps and finished at a stretch limo that came complete with necro-tempered glass. Whoever the visitor to LA was, they didn't want to see the light of day. Ten minutes later and the limo pulled away from the airport and onto the freeway bound for Wolfram and Hart._

Faith looked good. To say that she was living in a small cell with very few amenities and that she was surrounded by the detritus of human life, she looked good. She looked tanned and strong and peaceful. In a way Angel envied her. He'd never been able to find peace; he'd always been too cut up about what he had done. Then again he had done far worse things than Faith had ever done. Compared to him she had the right to peace.

He picked up the phone and smiled at her through the Perspex barrier.

"Hey, how goes it?"

She smiled back. Angel was her only true friend. He was the only one that came to see her and he was the only one that had made any effort to get her on the right track. She wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. For most people being in jail was a bad thing. Whilst Faith wasn't disputing the fact that it wasn't the best place to be in, she was grateful that she was here. If she hadn't gone to Angel or gone into prison she would have killed again. She knew that.

"It's good. The walls haven't changed much and no one throws down with me any more, so it's all good. You? You looked pretty banged up." She gave him a critical once over. She could see the bruises and she had seen the slight limp when he sat down. Angel usually wasn't hurt when he came to visit her.

"That's good. Wes sends his regards."

Angel watched as a small look of fear passed across her face. It was quickly followed by the sweetest smile that he had ever seen. He or Wes rather, had just made her day by that one little thing. It was at times like this that he loved helping people. More importantly he got to see how far Faith had come. He was so very proud of her. More than he ever was of Buffy or Cordelia. Faith was his redemption; she was his proof that he was doing good in the world.

"Really? That's… Tell him… thanks. Say hi from me too."

There was a pause as Faith digested the fact that there was another person in the world that actually cared enough about her to say hello. It was a novel experience for her. She knew that Wes wouldn't be coming to visit any time soon but it was enough.

"So are you going to tell me what's with the bruises? Because black might be your colour but that shade of yellow is unattractive. And as a bruisee from way back, I know what I am talking about." She offered him a goofy grin.

Angel played with the hem of his shirt as he sounded out how to tell her. None of the ways he thought of sounded that clever. At least he had didn't have Darla or Cordy here to complicate things. Seeing that honesty was the best policy he began his tale, from the beginning.

_The limo pulled up in the underground parking of Wolfram and Hart. A pair of dainty slippered feet stepped out and the individual was escorted to the lift in the garage. _

The Scooby gang arrived at the hotel at two o'clock, none of them particularly happy to be there, but all agreeing that it was necessary for them to clear the air. If only for Angel's sake. It was like high noon at the OK Corral. On one side of the room stood the Scoobies and on the other, the Fang Gang (which now included Anya and Spike). A tense silence filled the hotel. Tumble weeds rolled across the tiled lobby floor, and vultures began to circle over head.

Seeing as he was the fool that decided to call this meeting, Wes took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Hello. Umm, come in… sit down. Would anyone care for a drink?" After a few calls for soda, coffees and a tea for Giles, Wes, deciding that divide and conquer might be the best method to pursue here, sent Gunn and Xander to the kitchen. He and Willow then begun to unpack the food. Buffy and Riley hadn't moved from their position near the door and had their respective gazes fixed on Darla and Spike. Cordelia, having had a stern talking to from Wesley went to talk to Giles and Tara, listening as Anya told her about the Magic Box that she ran with Giles. Tara seemed sweet and Giles hadn't changed at all really so she was quite happy for the moment.

The atmosphere was comfortable until Gunn and Xander returned with the drinks. Although the two seemed to be getting along, the drinks meant that everyone was to come and get food. Once again the barriers went up, Scoobies taking to one sofa and the Fang Gang, another. Unable to bear the tense atmosphere, Willow let out a frustrated snort and bit the bullet.

"So, um… Darla… what's it like to be human? I mean, after… ya know…" By the time she had finished the sub sentence, she was blushing a bright red. So vivid that it clashed with her hair.

Darla smiled at the girl, she loved the shy ones. Despite her animosity towards him, she gave Spike a quick glance. Had Angel been here, he would have been the one to receive it, but he wasn't and Darla knew that Spike would appreciate whatever games that she decided to play. She also noticed the scowl on the face of the Slayer. Knowing that Buffy wouldn't dare to do anything at the moment, she decided to have her fun whilst she could.

"Well, pretty, I have to say that it is better than where I was before." She smiled and licked her lips slightly, loving the deeper blush that came when she called her pretty.

"Uggh… hell?"

"No, Sunnydale."

Spike and Cordelia snickered. Darla wasn't going to give an inch. Wes shot her a disapproving look, glaring more when Darla simply smiled sweetly at him.

"Perhaps we should talk about the other night. I know that I for one would like to apologise for the way that we yelled at you all and threw you out of the hospital. I am sure that you understand that we were very worried about Angel." Wes hoped that this would be a simple way to get the ball moving. He would wait until they were all talking before bringing up the fact that Buffy still was enemy number one at the hotel.

"Ah, yes. Thank you. How is Angel?" Giles started to clean his glasses, it made Wesley smile.

"_Forty men, dressed all in black; waiting for their orders, ready to attack." The dark ribbon of a blindfold slipped further down a porcelain face._

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"But… wow."

"Yup."

"Huh…"

Angel couldn't help the small bark of laughter that escaped him. Faith's face was a picture. There were too many emotions flickering over it and he wished that he had a sketch pad and pencil. He'd love to draw her right now, even if the outcome would only make her laugh. She looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a fast moving Mac truck had had an unfortunate breeding accident with a goldfish. He waited for her to come back from whatever cloud she was currently visiting.

"Good trip?"

"What!"

"You spaced out on me a little." He offered her a genuine smile, which was returned full force and then chased away again by real life.

"Well do you blame me? I mean I thought that the one thing that I could guarantee on was the fact that you were a vampire. Now? Well that's gone and… What the hell am I meant to say Angel? I mean congrats an' all but…"

She hung her head and his heart went out to her.

"You don't have to say anything Faith. I didn't come here to gloat or anything. I just came to tell you the truth – which you deserved and hopefully to offer you a little hope. Well two little bits of hope. One, Buffy isn't perfect; she makes pretty big mistakes and will be forgiven for them, just like you will be. Two, if the Powers can forgive me for the things that I did, things that make your darkness look like a sunny afternoon, then there is no way that you can't make amends."

"I guess… you're really forgiving her? After she put you in the hospital?" Faith still seemed to have problems with the idea of forgiveness.

"Yes I am. Not because I am alright with what she did or because I want to be her best friend at the moment, but because she needs me to." He saw a look of confusion flash across Faith's face and imagined that she was thinking that it always came down to Saint Buffy. "More importantly? I need to forgive her. In a way it's not about her. I'll forgive her because if I don't we'll never move on from this point. It'll always be there and it'll haunt us to the end of our days. I don't have the energy for that. I don't want to be Buffy's lover again, but I'm not averse to being her friend."

Faith snorted at something she heard, something that he didn't say.

"There never gonna forgive me Angel. No matter how exemplary your behaviour is."

He grinned at being caught out. She was a very smart girl. Maybe not school smarts but she knew people. She knew him.

"Maybe not. But they can't act so saintly anymore. Maybe one day they'll just get too tired of having to hate you and simply brush it away. Clean slate. Who knows?"

They drifted for a while in a comfortable silence. Both were contemplating the fact that Angel was speaking as much about him as he was about Faith. She admired him for that. She felt honoured that he had felt her worth the time and effort to come down here and tell her in person what had happened. She was angry at Buffy. She was eternally grateful that he wasn't going to abandon her. And, if she was honest? She did feel a little more hopeful. A little more convinced that she was on the right path.

She glanced up at the clock. They had fifteen minutes left. She wanted a juicer conversation and her mind hit upon something that he had dropped earlier.

"So, if you don't want to be Buffy's boy any more… you up for some conjugal visits?"

She smirked wickedly at him. She realised that he would get that this was a joke; after all he did seem a lot more fun at the moment. He was still Angel, just free from his demon and the guilt that the demon brought. Not that he wasn't still feeling bad for everything that he did. He just seemed to realise that he was allowed a little fun; although, she was waiting for him to panic at this comment. She choked on the answer that she did get.

"Could be. Although, I'll have to clear my schedule with Darla and Spike." The statement was said with such seriousness that the accompanying smirk did little to belie it.

"What? Darla _and_ Spike? Thought Spike was a guy?"

Angel smiled. "What's you're point?"

Faith liked this new Angel and decided to see where his boundaries actually lay. "Just didn't know you swung that way. I'll keep you in mind for a threesome when I get out."

"Well, liking men hardly fit the profile of the penitent vampire and Buffy's true love. And as for the threesome? It all depends on the other guy…"

"Oooh you're mean! Getting me all hot and bothered like this and then you'll prance out of here and leave me unsatisfied!" Faith pouted into the phone. This was the most fun that she had had in ages.

"I don't prance." Angel's countenance was firm.

"Not the point of the sentence."

"I still don't prance."

Wesley was taking the fact that they had been talking for an hour and a half and no blood had been spilt yet. Spike and Darla seemed to still be on the periphery of being tolerated. Darla, a little more so because she was human. Anya still seemed a little frosty to the Sunnydale group, Xander especially, but other than that she was fine. The main problem still lay between the people that loved Angel the most. Darla, Spike and Cordy were unwilling to give Buffy any leeway. Although, they had cut the death threats back to mere sniping. Vicious sniping, but it was the best that anyone could hope for. Wes had to note that Riley seemed the most stand offish. It was worrying as he really seemed to view the world in terms of absolutes. Good and Evil. Humans and Demons. There wasn't room for anything else in his opinion. At the moment they were discussing a particularly grey area, the Host.

"So you have to sing?" Xander still couldn't get past the karaoke part.

"Well, it does make sense. After all… when you sing you bear your soul. It must be the easiest way to read an aura."

All heads turned to a pink Tara; that was the most that they had ever heard her say. She reminded Wes so much of him when he was younger. Too shy to speak out but right more often than not. He smiled at her.

"Yes, that's my thinking. Although the Host won't confirm anything."

"Personally I think that he just gets his jollies listenin' to us make total fools outta ourselves." Gunn glanced round the room as all heads had turned to him. "Not that I've sung."

"Sure you 'aven't Charlie! Can see you now… spotlight glintin' off your 'ead, mic in your hand, beltin out… oh I dunno…"

"Neil Diamond!" Cordy joined Spike in teasing her colleague. "Gunn and Wes doing their own version of 'You don't bring me flowers"!" She doubled over laughing at the picture of them on the stage serenading one another.

"I don't think that either of you are in a position to mock. Not after the cat impression, and that's singular not the show, that we get from you Cordy. What was you're last massacre?"

"The Greatest Love of All", Xander and Willow both answered Wes in unison, both recalling the horror that was the talent show. Giles couldn't hide the snort that came when his memory came back to him.

"So all demons go to this bar?" Buffy was picturing Willies with a stage.

"Yes, but the Transuding Furies put a sanctuary spell in place. No violence permitted in there. It makes for a pleasant evening. Perhaps you would join us there before you go back to Sunnydale?"

Once more Wes found himself extending an olive branch that just wasn't long enough. He glanced at the clock. 4.46, Angel should be back soon and then hopefully everything would calm down. Although he doubted that Buffy finding out that he had seen Faith would be welcome news.

"Is anyone else cold?"

Darla's saccharine voice cut through the silence that had settled. Everyone shook their heads indicating that they were fine.

"Must be just me."

"You're gettin old Granny."

Spike earned a clip round the back of his head for that one. He had been pushing it all night.

"Shut up Willie. Cordelia? May I borrow a sweater?"

"Sure there should be one in my room. Help yourself." Cordelia frowned as she tried to remember whether or not she had any spares at the hotel.

"Thanks. I'm sure whatever's there will at least be fit to be seen outside of a workhouse. You at least have taste." She fired the statements at Buffy before sauntering up the steps.

"What a bitch!"

"I don't know Buffy, but then again it takes one to know one I suppose." Cordelia shot a Cheshire Cat grin at Buffy.

"Well you should know Cor, after all didn't you hold the Miss Bitchydale title at high school? Or was it Lay Queen? I can't recall."

"At least half of the demon population of Sunnyhell don't know me by my underwear Slutty."

"No that's just the male population."

At this point both girls were stood toe to fashionable toe and neither giving an inch. Although, had Cordelia given an inch she suspected that Buffy wouldn't have to strain her neck looking up.

Before Cordy could make another comment, the basement doors, front and garden doors and the windows were all smashed open and around thirty men, all clad in black Kevlar and armed with stun guns and night-sticks stormed the hotel.

Smoke began to curl up from the basement were they had had to blow the doors off and Willow, Tara and Anya hurried to try to get the flames under control. Cordelia, Wes and Gunn made for the weapons cabinet, tossing a few crossbows and swords to their friends. Buffy ploughed into the men, Gunn and Riley not far behind her. Six against thirty… the odds weren't on their side…

Angel had left the prison just under half an hour ago and was currently driving through an expanse of desert. It was nice, not as hot as earlier, but not cold. His visit with Faith had been fun. They had spent the last quarter of an hour bickering and flirting. He had enjoyed making her smile. She was another person that he felt he didn't have to hide himself from. Despite the place, he had felt very relaxed in her presence.

When the guard had come to take her away he had promised that he would be back next visiting hour and joked that he would look into both the conjugal and the threesome. He had mused out loud that as long as she had nothing against vampires Spike would probably be up for it… She had laughed, moaned about leaving a girl unsatisfied and shooed him off.

He noticed a van parked by the side of the road. The driver seemed to be having problems with the engine.

He pulled in and cut off the engine.

He got out of the car.

"Need a hand?"

"Sure… don't really know what's wrong with her."

Angel stepped closer and peered in to the bonnet.

Suddenly an arm wrapped round his waist. Hands grabbed his arms and legs and a cloth smelling of chloroform was held over his nose.

The last thing that he heard before passing out was…

"Target acquired."

_Lyrics to You don't bring Me Flowers. – Can't you just see Gunn and Wes?_

_(duet with barbra streisand) written by: neil diamond, alan bergman and marilyn bergman _

You don't bring me flowers  
You don't sing me love songs  
You hardly talk to me anymore  
When you come thru the door  
At the end of the day

I remember when  
You couldn't wait to love me  
Used to hate to leave me  
Now after lovin' me late at night  
When it's good for you  
And you're feelin' alright  
Well you just roll over  
And turn out the light  
And you don't bring me flowers anymore

_It used to be so natural  
To talk about forever  
But "used to be's" don't count anymore  
They just lay on the floor  
'til we sweep them away _

And baby, i remember  
All the things you taught me  
I learned how to laugh  
And i learned how to cry  
Well i leared how to love  
Even learned how to lie  
You'd think i could learn  
How to tell you goodbye  
'cause you don't bring me flowers anymore


	12. Smoked Out

Chapter 12 – Smoked Out

More storm troopers burst through both sets of doors and into the main body of the hotel. The smoke from the fire raging in the basement provided a hazy cover for them to move through. Spike was taken down first as he was unable to fight back against humans. Luckily though they were more intent on their targets and didn't waste time in taking him out. Once he went down he stayed down and covered his head hoping that this would end before he was trampled to death. He didn't pause to consider the fact that vampires couldn't really be trampled to death.

Mostly they focused their efforts on Buffy. They tag-teamed her; if one went down, another two took its place. They were well trained but had to rely upon technique rather than power, showing off remarkable martial art and kick boxing skills that really didn't stand up to the test of a furious Slayer. Buffy was powering through them like a bull dozer. Using more force than finesse she worked to cause maximum damage in order to thin the crowd. She shattered bones with single punches, only holding back enough to ensure that she didn't kill anyone. She was a powerhouse of motion. She spun, kicked and punched her way through the black figures, a swirl of golden hair being all that was really visible of her. Riley and Gunn were also targeted but on a lesser scale and only if the commandos actually made it past Buffy. Cordelia and Wesley worked back to back, throwing everything that they had at the men, including the fresh pot of coffee that Cordelia had made and a rather heavy dictionary of demons. Giles and Xander also did what they could to thin the herd, but they just seemed to keep coming.

And then they stopped and fled the building as quickly as they came, like cockroaches scuttling away from the light.

With barely a pause they switched from fighting mode to preserve mode and despite the bruises went to help Willow, Tara and Anya with the fire in the basement, grabbing the spare fire extinguisher on the way.

When the flames were finally out they had time to stop and survey the damage. Most of the objects that had been stored in the basement had been destroyed. All of the training equipment, the washer and dryer, the clothes they'd contained, the odd chairs and tables and the extra weapons were either burnt to a cinder or chard beyond repair. Luckily all the support beams were metal and concrete and so no structural damage had occurred. It was going to take weeks to clean up – if the room could be salvaged at all. Or, as was more likely, if they could be bothered to salvage the room at all.

Angel wasn't going to be best pleased.

The lobby didn't look much better. The glass doors were shattered and the glass shards littered the floor. Both of the red sofas had been upended and one of them had had the stuffing ripped out of it. Smoke had stained the walls. Books were scattered everywhere, Angel's desk had been demolished and his chair had been overturned. In short the place was the definition of chaos.

Angel really wasn't going to be pleased.

The group looked haggard and were exhausted. Verbal spats, fights and fires weren't conducive to a days rest. Yet there was no time to sit and relax, they needed to know what the commandos had wanted and they needed to know quickly. Wesley started checking the rare volumes and scrolls that he had stored in the office safe and Cordy was checking the computer files. Nothing seemed to be missing. Gunn reported that nothing had been taken from the weapons cabinet either.

This didn't make sense.

"Are you sure that nothing is missing? Because that wasn't just a random attack – that had a purpose." Cordy was worried. Things like that didn't just happen, not to them. But Wesley was right. Despite everything being out of place and practically destroyed, everything was still there.

"Riley, any chance you recognise those guys? I mean with you being special ops guy and all."

"Buffy they weren't Initiative. I also don't think that they were government."

"No, they were Wolfram and Hart."

Cordelia was utterly convinced of that fact. The way they had got into the hotel, the fact that they had targeted Buffy and Spike first, then Riley and Gunn. The distraction of the fire in the basement and the trashing of the office – it was too planned. It absolutely reeked of the lawyers from hell and considering the fact that they hadn't heard from them for awhile… well AI was a favourite pastime of theirs and it was unlikely they would just give up.

"I have to agree with Cordelia. Although, I can't tell what they wanted. We haven't got in their way recently. We don't have anything that they would want…"

"When do those fools need a reason to mess with us?"

"Look, there's not that much we can do for now. We'd better get this place cleared up before Angel gets back otherwise… well I won't be showing him the basement. Gunn, Riley, Spike, Xander – get your butts downstairs. Make sure that it's not going to burst into flames anytime soon. Clear all the junk out and open the tunnel doors to let the smoke out. Girls, I'll get you the cleaning stuff and you guys can clear this place up. Giles, Wes and I will sort the office."

"Sure Cordy, I'll go and get Darla, tell her its over and then she can help too."

"Don't think that Granny knows how to clean. Always had minions." Spike's helpful comment was given all the attention that it deserved. It was ignored.

"Thanks Will. Well what are you lot waiting for – get!" With that command everyone moved towards their designated tasks. Spike was grumbling about the fact that he was the most flammable of the lot and was having to check on a fire, Buffy was muttering about feminism and Wesley was bemoaning his books whilst Giles tried to comfort him.

Cordy dumped the cleaning equipment in an ungainly pile in the middle of the lobby and moved into the office. It looked like the whirlwind from hell had hit it. It was a sea of paper and books and would take forever to sort out. Cordy had to wish that she had never gotten out of bed that morning. She knew that Buffy coming over was a bad idea. She bent to pick up the first book that she came to when she heard Willow thundering down the stairs.

"Darla's gone!"

Everyone was stood in the detritus that had been Cordy's room. She had put up a fight, but they had obviously come through the window and the door. The door had been broken down and bed sheets had been ripped off the bed. Books, shoes, bags and clothes had obviously been thrown at her attackers in an attempt to ward them off but they hadn't been deterred.

"Why would anyone want Darla?"

Giles' couldn't get his head around this attack. Of course they were used to diversionary tactics in Sunnydale but this was above and beyond. There had been at least thirty men downstairs, not to mention however many there were up here. Why so many for one normal woman? If she had had Slayer strength he may have understood it, but as it was…

"Didn't pretty boy have a crush on her?" Gunn's harsh tone spoke volumes of both his worry and his contempt for Wolfram and Hart.

"Who? Lindsay? I think that Angel mentioned something but… Surely he wouldn't go this far? I mean he may have been evil lawyer guy but he wasn't serial stalker guy! No way!"

"I have to agree with Cordelia. He may have had… feelings… for Darla, but those were Wolfram and Hart's Special Ops team. I doubt very much that he could use them for his own personal use."

Riley looked up at the others from where he had been examining the room for clues. These guys were better than some of the military ops that he had seen. The tactics were amazing. "There's nothing up here that will help us anyway. The guys were professionals, quick hit. In and out. The fight downstairs was just a distraction."

"That means that they have either been watching us all afternoon and waited until Darla was alone or…"

"Hotel's bugged." Gunn shrugged. "Angel's gonna have one hell of a fit."

On the name Angel, everyone froze. In all the excitement they had all forgotten that Angel would be absolutely distraught to find Darla missing. They were only really concerned because she was a fellow human and they wanted to know what Wolfram and Hart wanted with her. Angel actually cared for her. He had died for her. He would race of to save her from Wolfram and Hart as soon as he heard.

"Oh God! We have to phone Angel know and get him back here. We need to start looking for Darla right now!" Cordelia's voice was getting louder and louder. She took a deep breath and led the group out of the room. "Gunn, phone Angel. Tell him to get his ass back here now. Tell him that the Scoobies have arrived early and he's needed here. Do not mention Darla ok?"

"On it." Gunn ran down the last few stairs and over the phone.

"Wes, get Willow everything she needs for a tracking spell."

"He's not answering! Voicemail?"

"Voicemail? Gunn… he doesn't know…no… NO! ARRRGH!"

Cordelia folded in on herself as a vision turned her central nervous system to mush. Spike caught her before she hit the floor and tried to restrain her trashing but holding her was causing the chip to fire. He pushed her onto Wes and sat nursing a headache of his own.

"What's happening to her!" Willow looked panicked. Cordelia was in serious pain if the screaming was anything to go by. She looked as though she was having an intense epileptic fit. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and she was shaking all over.

"Vision. Gunn, tablets are in her drawer. Would someone fetch a glass of water?" Wesey's tone was brusque and business like, he'd obviously done this a hundred times over.

Anya hurried of to the kitchen whilst the others watched in horror. Gunn brought over a small tub of pills and handed a couple to Spike, who was in obvious pain. He actually felt sorry for the vamp. Sure he knew that he was an evil killer, but it was cruel to cage the demon like that and if there was one thing that Gunn detested it was cruelty. Spike offered him a watery smile of thanks and Gunn turned to pour a few into Cordy's waiting hand. She gratefully accepted the water that Anya offered. For the time being she made no move to get up from her place on the floor, supported by Wes.

"What did you see?" Wes brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Whatever she had seen can't have been good if the tears were anything to go by.

"A…Angel."

Tears began to fall down Cordy's cheeks.

"Oh God, Angel… Wolfram and Hart have him… They kidnapped him…"

At this news Cordelia had everyone's undivided attention. Buffy was gritting her teeth and baling her fist, Spike had begun a low growl and his eyes had flickered gold, Gunn and Wes both had grim looks on their faces and the others were an undecided mix of concern, anger and frustration.

"Cordelia? Did you see anything that might tell us where they have taken Angel?"

"And Darla."

Everyone turned to look at Anya. She raised a delicate eyebrow at their stupidity. "They've taken the both of them; chances are that they'll have them together somewhere."

Both Wes and Giles wanted to slap themselves that they hadn't seen this link. They were trained to look for patterns and the like and they had both missed this vital link.

"Anya's right. They have the both of them for some reason. We don't have time to worry about that, we have to find them before anything happens. Cordelia?"

Cordelia ran her hands over her face, scrubbing at her eyes in frustration. She took a deep breath and went back into her vision. It was different from any vision that she had ever had before. It was as if she was in another person's mind. A not too sane person. She began to methodically say what she saw or felt and Willow dutifully wrote it down.

"Ok, well there was Lindsay and Lilah… Stars… Roof… There was the smell of… I want to say… manure. Umm… wait, wait, wait… Darla's bound to a chair… Angel on the floor, bound tightly… there's someone else… someone they know… Angel is scared and the person's laughing… I can't see anymore. It's all just random thoughts."

"Ok well that's good. You rest now."

Wesley steered her to the sofa.

"Good? Good! What the hell was good about that? She told us nothing!" Buffy was pacing the lobby like a caged lion.

"Back off Blondie! Cordy's visions aren't always clear; we just have to look at it without panicking." Gunn turned away from the girl that was really testing his patience. "Cordy, you said manure and a roof? That makes no sense."

"Unless, there's a green house or nursery on a roof in LA. It's not like there is much room on the ground." Willow was chewing on the pen as she tried to look at each clue in an analytical way. They really didn't make that much sense.

"Nursery… that… the other person! They were thinking about a nursery… about… about… about a birth? They wanted to have their children… under the stars. They had to get the nursery ready. A greenhouse though?"

"They're sometimes called plant nurseries." Willow didn't look up from the list.

"Oh. So we're looking for a roof-top greenhouse."

"With Wolfram and Hart connections."

Willow grabbed Cordelia's laptop, luckily it hadn't been damaged in the raid. She quickly connected to the internet. Using Cordy's bookmarks she began her hunt for Wolfram and Hart properties, going over the list next to her and conferring with Wesley whenever she thought that she had a match. The others spent their time both hovering and tidying. Buffy kept dogging Cordelia for more information, insisting that she must know more. Finally she was dragged away by Xander, who saw how pained and worried Cordy looked, and decided that both girls needed a time out.

Spike sat on the steps and thought. People often underestimated his intelligence. It was their downfall usually. He had gone to Cambridge and received a first in English. He had plotted with the most Machiavellian demon the world had ever known and spent his leisure time making up riddles for Angelus and translating the ones he was given. His mind was good at looking outside of the box and at the moment everything was telling him that there was something else here. He ignored the movement and noise around him and let his mind drift. He closed his eyes and let the words flow over him.

_Stars… Roof… Nursery… Children… Stars… Stars… Stars!_

He leapt to his feet.

"Dru! Drusilla's here! They've brought Dru here and she's going to turn them!"

Everyone had stopped what they were doing. A broom hit the floor with a resounding clatter and there was a tinkle as glass dropped from a loosely gripped dust pan. Everything had just gotten a whole lot more serious.

"Are you sure?" Wesley really didn't need to know the answer to that question. It made perfect sense. In a sick and twisted way.

"Oh yeah, 'Children under the Stars'? A nursery? Classic Dru. She'd want them to rise properly and she loved the garden in Sunnydale. Who else would you bring in to Sire Angel and Darla?"

The looks on the faces of all the people in the lobby told him that they totally understood what he was telling them.

"Who's Drusilla?" Gunn, Riley and Tara all happened to speak at the same time, all overlapping one another. The look of horror on the faces of all gathered told them that whoever she was, there was no way that she was the tooth fairy.

"She's a vampire, driven insane and turned by Angelus. She's Spike's Sire. Together the four of them ripped Europe to shreds."

"Yeah, good times…" Spike had a small smile on his face. It faltered when he received ten identical death glares. "What? They were." He moved back to his seat on the step.

There was a long silence. Everyone had stopped their conciliatory work on tidying the lobby and deflated into the chairs and sofas. The only sound that could be heard was the clicking of Willow's fingers on the keyboard and the flipping of pages as Wes and Cordelia tried to find something in the phone books. Spike twirled a cigarette around in his fingers. He knew that his face was the perfect mask of calm but on the inside there was nothing but an icy fear. He didn't want Angel to die. With everything he was, he didn't want Angel to die. If Angel did or if he was turned, Spike had no doubts that he'd lose him.

They'd been getting on so well recently. Granted Angel had spent much of that time confined to bed because of his injuries but it had given them chance to talk. They'd joked and laughed like they had done a hundred years ago. They'd talked about the times that Angel could bear to think about. They'd laughed about the times that Darla had lost patience with the pair of them. They'd sat and winded Darla and Cordelia up for hours. Spike had taught Angel loads about current culture and reminisced about the culture that they had both grown up in, agreeing that this time was sometimes so foreign.

Angel had even flirted with him.

It was like he had Angelus back. But an Angelus that could care, that didn't hurt or mock. He imagined that this was actually Liam. Darla had often told tales of how wild and fun Liam had been but Spike had been unable to see it in the pure vicious destructiveness that had been Angelus' fun. Sure he'd been fantastic company as a vampire and he'd never actually tried to destroy them as he did to all the people he went after but Spike had always been wary of the older vampire. Angelus had a fiery temper and Spike had never wanted to be the focus of his wrath. Yet he had wanted the vampire beyond belief. Wanted to mean something to him. Wanted to be more than just a protégé and hunting partner. He wanted back the night that Angelus had claimed him as part of the family. He'd been close to getting it as well. At the end Angelus had spent more and more time with him and less with Darla and Dru. It had been almost perfect and then that bloody gypsy girl had come along.

Then there had been Angel. So tortured by his past and fighting his own nature that he had been unable to be around Spike. Angel had explained it to him one afternoon. He'd told him that the soul was Liam's soul and yet it co-existed with a demon. He, Angel, was the product. He was torn apart by grief. By the human part of him that so desperately wanted to be a man and that couldn't bear what his demon self had done with his body. By the demon who wanted to go back to everything that he had been before. He was the middle ground and it destroyed him a little more everyday. He'd told Spike that in many ways it was like the chip, the blood lust was there, but the horror and the revulsion that the soul felt meant that he couldn't bear it.

He also told him that they were and weren't separate entities. It was more like they were the extremes of one entity and Angel was the unhappy medium. He was Angelus and he was Liam and he was neither. Angel had been trying to work it out as he told Spike, but he got the gist. Angel was now free of the extremes and so he was back to being the fun Irish boy, but he was all grown up now. He still felt guilty but that guilt had eased, mainly because he had no blood lust. He could think about the past and laugh because he couldn't be dragged back there. He had stopped walking the tightrope that had been his life. And Spike wanted him more than ever.

If Angel died, he'd lose what he'd come to adore over the past few days, the cheeky, funny yet sensitive individual that was the real Angel. He desperately didn't want to lose that. especially not to Dru.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a shrill squeal from their resident hacker.

"Oooh! Ooh! I think… Wesley… look!" Willow spun the laptop so that Wesley could read it. A few seconds later and he was jotting down an address and pulling his jacket on.

"Have you your cars here?" When everyone nodded Wesley continued as Gunn handed weapons out. "Ok, Gunn, you, Spike and me will go in your truck, everyone follow us. Cordy, here's a copy of the address should you lose us. There's a map and third copy here for the last car. Keep up. Gunn won't be driving slowly. Any questions?"

"What do we do if they've been turned?" Willow's voice was little more than a whisper.

"Kill them." Riley didn't have any qualms about that. Vampires were evil and needed to be stopped. His arm was caught in a vice and he was staring into two deadly blue eyes.

"No. We bring them back here and deal with it." Wes was not messing about. "Spike, will you be alright to kill Drusilla?"

"If I have to." He hated having to consider it.

"She's dust." Buffy held Mr. Pointy firmly in her hand. Cordy couldn't help but nod in agreement as she loaded another crossbow bolt into her little crossbows.

"Anything else? Right, let's move."

As they marched out of the door none of them could ignore the icy grip of fear that clenched in their gut.


	13. Nursery Rhymes and Reasons

**_AN - Just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed - I am so glad that you are enjoying the story. For those of you that questioned what W & H were up to with regards to Angel's soul, just remember the Shansu prophecy cos that is going to play a major role. Well enough from me. Read, enjoy and review! Thanks x_**

Chapter 13 – Nursery Rhymes and Reasons

Angel came too slowly. He felt dizzy. His vision was blurry, all he could make out were blurry shapes. He shut his eyes again, the light stung them. He could still smell the chloroform. His mouth felt furry and he desperately wanted a glass of water. He felt sick, he hadn't felt sick for two hundred years but he remembered the nauseous feeling and lump in the back of the throat. He swallowed it down and winced at the pain that caused his dry throat. He became very aware of an incessant tapping on his face and a weight over his thighs. His eyelids were heavy and it took too long to open them and focus. The light still stung them but he kept them open this time. He needed to know what was happening. He refused to think about the coil of panic that was settling in his belly. There were too many things to think about. Slowly he realised that the weight on his legs was actually a woman.

"Lilah…"

"Hey there baby. How do you feel?"

Lilah had to admit, sitting on Angel's lap; well there were worse places she could think of. She ran her fingers through his hair and rotated her hips a little. She might as well enjoy it whilst she could. He was as weak as a kitten.

"What… where…"

"Two excellent questions Angel. I don't believe we've had the pleasure, Holland Manners. I've been looking forward to meeting you. Lilah?"

Lilah reluctantly moved from her position straddling Angel's hips. She stood and tossed a sweet smile to Holland. It promised pain. Holland pulled up a chair and set it front of Angel. From his position on the floor, all that Angel could see were Holland's impeccable Italian loafers and his knobbly knees carefully hidden under stylish Gucci pants. He didn't have the energy to shift his position to try to see his face.

"I'm sure that you are curious as to why you're here. I'm sorry what was that?"

He leaned down so that he could hear what Angel's raw and scratchy throat was trying to tell him. Angel looked up to see and oldish man; that if he hadn't had Wolfram and Hart stamped on his forehead, would have seemed like the friendly granddad type. He tried again.

"…not… really…"

Holland laughed. "I was told that you were stubborn. I'm glad that you live up to your reputation. I'd have thought that being human would have cowed you somewhat. I'm glad it hasn't. Anyway, we have a little problem. You see, we need you as a vampire. The whole Darla project, well it wasn't one of our best." Holland rose and began pacing round the little room.

Angel tuned him out, he really wasn't that interested in what Wolfram and Hart wanted from him at the moment. He also didn't care about how they had ruined their precious Darla project. He heard Holland say something about him being a vampire but was more interested in finding out where he was and seeing if there was some way for him to get out. From what he could see and feel, he was in a room with a cold concrete floor and a glass ceiling. He was obviously high up as he couldn't see the glare from the street lamps wherever they were and he was able to see the stars. He hadn't really looked at them in a while, not since his garden in Sunnydale. God, he missed the simplicity of that. There was nothing else, only the smell of manure, which gave him no real clue as to where he was. He was obviously in a plant nursery as the thick cloying scent of wet earth hung in the air but that didn't help him much.

His concentration was abruptly brought back to the matter at hand by the sound of a door opening and a muffled voice was heard, obviously trying to yell against a gag. He had gagged too many people not to recognise the sounds. He tried to roll himself on to his stomach so that he could see more, but having duck tape binding his hands and feet inhibited his movement greatly. He tried to sit up but the nausea forced him back down. A woman was shoved into the chair that Holland had vacated. He could tell it was a woman by her dainty ankles and the painted toe nails. And the sandals that…

Oh God – it was Darla!

"Lindsay, how did it go…"

They had Darla; Lindsay had taken Darla from the hotel. Bastard! He was going to kill the little shit! But why? Why had they both been snatched? What did Wolfram and Hart want with them? What did they have to gain from two former vampires? Some weird experiment? What were they going to…

"Ah Drusilla, you look lovely."

Oh no…

Darla had totally stilled when she had seen Angel, bound and dumped on the floor. He looked ill and so helpless. She had then started struggling frantically. Unfortunately she was bound tightly and for a small man Lindsay was remarkably strong. She had kicked, with both feet and squirmed for all she was worth, but he hadn't let her go. He had just dumped her in the chair that towered over Angel. She hadn't dared move then. There was a look in Lindsay's eye that indicated that they were both in real danger and that Angel would be the one that would suffer should she step out of line.

This was too much.

She couldn't keep doing this. Five days ago Angel had been in hospital and badly injured. Now he was still healing and tied up on a hard stone floor. An unexpected wave of fear washed over her. Darla was hardly ever afraid. Was this how all of their victims had felt? Was this how the gypsy girl had felt when Darla had caught her, bound her, gagged her and presented her to Angelus as if she were a trophy? They had done this to so many people, so many times, wasn't it justice that it was finally done to them? Well not to Angel. He had suffered, he had been to Hell, and he had tried to atone. He didn't deserve to be here. He didn't deserve to be lying on that cold floor. Darla felt a tear track down her face. She hardy ever cried, and now she was crying for Angel. Crying because he didn't deserve to be here. He didn't deserve to suffer Lindsay's insane jealousy. He didn't…

Oh God… Drusilla.

Darla felt her heart stop in its chest. Her mouth went dry and her tongue suddenly felt too large for her mouth. The tears started to fall faster as she realised what was going to happen. She could tell from the slight moan that Angel had realised too. Never before had she felt as helpless, not even as a whore dying of syphilis. Now not only was she going to die and become a monster again but so too was Angel. He was going to become that which he had come to hate more than anything in the world, just as he had freed himself from it. He had died for her and now he was going to become a vampire because of her. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

Both of them had finally felt true happiness. They both had a real family in the LA gang, a home at the hotel and the potential for good lives. Lives filled with love and laughter and Darla knew beyond a doubt that Angel at least deserved that. Now it was about to be torn from them. Ripped violently away with their souls, by a pair of razor sharp ivory fangs. A pair of fangs that belonged to an insane demon. Their insane demon. They had made her. She was a product of their evil, Darla had chosen her and Angelus had destroyed her and the demon that came after was a work of art. Was this karma? Was this the only fate that they deserved? If it was then she was going to fight it every step of the way. She did not want to die.

She looked down at the only part of Angel that she could see; his legs and made a promise to him and to herself. She wanted to live – more than she had ever done in her existence. When the Master had come for her all those years ago, accepting what he had offered was easy. She had no friends, no family, no one to mourn her loss. She was a whore, she was damned anyway – she might as well make a pact with the devil and ensure that her damnation was worth it. This time though, she had everything to live for. She had Angel. She loved him so very much and whilst he didn't return her affections in the manner that she would have hoped, whilst she knew that their time was over, she also knew that he loved her too. He had given up his life for her. She wasn't about to betray him now by giving up her life without a fight. Dru was going to have to put in a lot of work to take Darla this time. She was going to fight for her soul, for her life and for her Angel. And if she did turn? Wolfram and Hart would wish that they had never heard the name Darla. They would die horribly for hurting her boy – for stealing his redemption.

She hoped that thought was enough. That he would know that she wanted to live and that she was sorry for all of this. She hoped that he could feel how sorry she was that he got dragged into all of this. She hoped that he knew that she loved him. It was all that she had left – hope that Angel knew her well enough to know that she was more than grateful for everything that he had done for her. He had saved her soul. She bit back her tears and turned her attention to her errant Grand Childe.

Drusilla stood in the doorway looking as ethereal and willowy as she ever did. Her dark, raven locks tumbled around her shoulders in more of a wave than the Victorian ringlet that she had favoured. Her dress had also changed. She still wore flowing clothes, a long skirt and a calf length coat, but they were in a rich purple. Not a colour that Darla had ever associated her with. The delicate maroon bodice that she wore under the coat was the only item of clothing that reminded Darla of the Victorian girl that she had been, and the strange combination of old and new clothing made her all the more alluring. She looked every inch the 'dark, wicked plum' that Angelus had always described her as. Her creamy white skin made her big doe eyes stand out even further. She looked innocent. She looked like a china doll dressed up in her mother's clothes. There was nothing of the crazed monster that she was present in her appearance – it was only visible in one place and only for the people that knew her well enough. Her dark eyes held all the secrets of the world in them, all the secrets of pain and darkness. What worried Darla though was the fact that those eyes no longer held the fragile insanity that they always had. They were still mad but they held the cruel and calculating gleam of competence. Dru knew why she was here. She knew what she was doing. She was more dangerous now than she had ever been.

"Ooo, look, my pretty pets. Grandmummy and Daddy are gone. Flitted and flew away on little wings." Dru ran her pink tongue along perfectly white teeth. "But they'll come back again. We'll be a family again."

She clapped her hands like a little child and laughed her musical laugh. Darla watched as she danced her way over to them, humming and twirling to a music that only she could hear. Dru lived in the permanent twilight of insanity. She constantly walked in the shadowed land between childhood and adulthood and she would never escape that. They had put her there. They had forced her mind back to a time of innocence and safety and then locked it away forever in the body of a young woman.

"Why so sad Grandmummy? Is it because the nasty rag won't let you talk? Well if you're a good girl I'll take it off. Miss Edith says that I'm you're new mummy. You'll like that."

Dru smiled at Darla and leaned over. She brushed a kiss over her new daughter's forehead and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, tracing her manicured finger lightly over the planes of Darla's face.

"My pretty Daughter. Miss Edith is jealous because I have a new Princess. If she doesn't behave she won't be coming to the party."

She kissed Darla again and then reached down and grabbed a handful of Angel's hair. She hauled him to his feet and then slightly off the ground. "You'll make a lovely new play mate for my Spike. Daddy is now my little boy. I am going to be a wicked mummy pet. I am going to beat you and whip you and make you scream. Just like you did to me."

Darla's heart broke as she saw the look of anguish that flittered over Angel's face. She was amazed though when he stilled his features to a mask worthy of the greatest poker player. She watched as Dru lowered him to the ground, allowing him to stand on his own feet. He had obviously been lying down for a while as his legs buckled but Dru held him firm and crushed him to her body.

"Poor kitty needs his mummy already. Look at you, so pretty. Mmm pretty baby." Dru proceeded to pull him into a violent kiss, practically raping his mouth. She had a firm grip on his jaw, squeezing it until he whimpered when he tried to turn away. When she finally let go there were red finger imprints on his skin. She pushed him back to the floor, but he managed to end up on his knees, as if waiting for the guillotine to fall.

Dru circled the pair of them like prey. Her eyes were now golden and wild, but the rest of her was still human. She paused and ran her fingers through Angel's hair. "Silky, like rabbit's fur. Want to be my bunny?" Her gentle petting turned harsh as she grabbed a handful of hair and dragged him up towards her mouth. She gave his neck a quick nip with blunt, human teeth and then moved to his ear, nibbling all the way. "Psst… want to know a secret? Lindsay wants Grandmummy. Do you think that he'll get her?"

When Angel didn't reply Dru hissed and slapped him hard across the cheek. "Mummy wants you to talk. Tell mummy what you think."

She started her petting of Angel's hair again. He glanced at Darla and offered her a weak smile before turning and glaring at Lindsay. "Darla has better taste than that tiny Texan." Dru laughed and kept petting his hair.

"Ooh, I think that my boy doesn't like you. I think that he'll eat your eyeballs. Snap snap."

She clicked her fingers and moved away from Angel and Darla. She began to pace round the room. If she were a sane person on might have assumed that she was inspecting the room. But it was Dru. She was doing what the stars told her to. She walked up to the humans and inhaled their fear. Lilah really didn't like her, which made Dru move closer to her.

"Are you ready yet?" Lindsay couldn't stand this waiting. He knew that Dru did things her way, but they had a lot to get through before the night was over and every second wasted meant that something could go wrong.

"Lindsay, please. I apologise Drusilla, he's just nervous. Is everything to your satisfaction?" Holland shot Lindsay a vicious glare. The vampire was too temperamental to talk to like that. They could all die here.

"He's an eager puppy, ruff ruff! Wants his bone and bed right now. The stars say that everything is ready. That I'm ready to be a mummy!"

She clapped her hands like an eager child. She turned to her victims and missed Holland motioning for Special Ops to surround the room. He wasn't going to risk anything. No one was getting into this room without them knowing about it. Dru looked between Angel and Darla and pointed a finger at them in turn.

"Little boy must let the ladies go first. It's only polite after all. Come to mummy."

She pulled Darla too her and brushed the blonde hair away from her neck. Darla was shaking and hiccupping behind the gag. Tears were streaking their way down her face. She looked at Angel and saw him finally broken. Tears tracked down his cheeks and he couldn't even find his voice to try to stop what was going to happen. He had lost all hope. The weight of the world had finally brought Atlas to his knees. Unable to look at Darla he turned his head away and closed his eyes, as if he thought that would prevent it from happening. Darla wanted to scream when she say Lindsay grab Angel's hair roughly forcing him to watch what was happening. The malicious smile that curved on Lindsay's face ensured that he would be the first to die when Darla rose. Angel gave a painful whimper and his eyes met Darla's one last time.

She saw the world in those chocolate orbs. She saw love and fear, anger and pity; she saw a thousand apologies for things that weren't even his fault. But mostly there was love. Darla saw that he loved her and he was sorry that he couldn't save her. He was broken by that very fact. He'd have to watch another person he loved die. Unable to bear the look in his eyes Darla shut her own, wanting the last thing that she saw to be something good. She prayed that this wouldn't happen, she knew it would. She prayed Dru would fail and that she wouldn't rise. But mostly, she prayed that Dru would be stopped before she could do this to Angel. He didn't deserve to die like this. He deserved to die after a long and happy life, surrounded by his friends and family – not in a cold greenhouse with only his enemies to watch him pass.

Then came the white heat of sharp fangs slipping delicately into her flesh, unwilling to waste a single drop of her blood. It wasn't painful and it wasn't pleasurable, it was the tightrope between the two. It hadn't felt like this with the Master because she was so near to death anyway and it was only pleasure when you were a vampire. When you were a vampire feeding and being fed off was the ultimate experience and one that she had only really shared with Angelus. He had been that good at it that she had been brought to orgasm many times by his fangs. Penetration took so many different meanings when you were a vampire. She felt her heart swell and a tugging start as the blood was drawn from her system. She saw images of her past swirling around her head and tried to fight with everything that she had the knowledge that she would become this thing, this monster. She tried to fight the fact that as soon as Dru finished, Darla would no longer exist – it would just be a demon wearing her face. The fear gripped her and she began to try to pull herself from Dru's arms. She struggled and hit out at her captor, squirming in agony as the fangs embedded themselves deeper into her flesh. All she managed to do was to tear her throat more and the tightrope to turn into a burning lash of pain. Blood began to gush from the huge tear in her throat.

Eventually the pulling stopped. She felt herself being pressed against Dru's flesh and she could smell the irresistible vampire blood. She tried to pull her head away but she was too weak from the blood loss. As soon as the first drop of blood touched her lips she knew that she was done for. You couldn't ignore the call of the blood. Even to a human, vampire blood was the sweetest ambrosia. It was as if it knew what you're favourite taste was. It could be honey or chocolate or strawberries sweetened with sugar. It was everything that you wanted and after that first sip, it was everything that you needed. Your body latched on to it like a drowning man would a lifeline. No matter how much Darla's mind was pulling her away from doing this, Darla's body was in charge and it craved the viscous fluid that was caressing its way over her tongue. She started to suck harder, feeling Dru shake with laughter at her new creation. Underneath all of the sweetness she heard the whisperings of the new demon, telling her what she was. The tears slowed as she took another deep draught.

The only thing that was convincing Angel that this wasn't the product of his nightmare and that he would wake up safe in his bed at the Hyperion was the hand gripping and tearing his hair. Every time he tried to turn away Lindsay yanked some more hair out, every time he shut his eyes there was more pain. He was grateful when Darla shut her eyes, he didn't want her to see his betrayal. He had failed to protect her and she was dying because of it. She had had the world ahead of her. She had been coming to terms with her soul. She had begun to apologise for all the evil that she had done as a vampire, even though it had been another lifetime ago. She had been making friends and become part of a family.

She had lost that now. He hadn't been able to protect her.

He watched Darla begin to struggle against her attacker, but she wasn't strong enough and her throat tore more. He could see the blood cascading from the large ragged wound in her neck. Her light blue jumper was staining red and her hair was becoming matted with blood at the ends. There was no romance in this turning. It was violent and bloody and entirely demonic.

As he watched Darla begin to drink, Drusilla achieved that which the entire legions of hell had failed to do, Angel broke. His mind shut down and he went boneless, only Lindsay's hand was keeping him upright. His eyes glazed and the last thing he saw was Dru's golden eyes turn on him as Darla slumped to the floor.


	14. Racing the Blood Flow

**Sorry that this has taken so long - but RL can suck! I am not too sure about this chpt but I hope that you enjoy it anyway... Thanks for reviewing too x**

Chpt 14 - Racing the Blood Flow

They were absolutely silent. They were absolutely deadly. They were absolutely hidden. Black Kevlar cloaked figures surrounded the small glass and wood hut that currently housed many of Wolfram and Hart's dreams. They had only one order – kill anything that got to the roof.

The lobby of the 25 storey Marshall Building was deadly silent as the LA crew and the Scoobies arrived. There was no security guard at the desk for them to report to or question. There were no employees milling about after a hard day's work or rapidly trying to finish that last bit of paper work before they had to leave for the evening. Go back to their wives and 2.5 kids. There was no janitor pushing a mop over the shiny floor. There was nothing – it was as silent as a tomb… Within moments they had decided that Spike and Buffy would take the stairs and the rest of the team would take the elevator. Nodding at each other and hefting their weapons, they separated.

Darla's body began to cool. To a vampire's eyes the change had already begun. Rather than the bluish tinge that bodies take on after death… that cold, icy blue that only can mean death… she began to turn white. Porcelain white. An unnatural white… it was as if she had been covered in plaster of Paris or stage paint. It was wrong. Her lips darkened to a bloody red, a garish strip of crimson on the snowy backdrop. Rather than lie still, she twitched. Small muscles spasms wracked her systems and were the only indication of battle of domination that was going on between her dead form and the living demon that wanted it.

They shifted their positions. Eyes scanned the roof, watching every available breach point for any signs of danger. Be it a rampaging vampire or a renegade Slayer… they were ready. Armed with crossbows, battle axes and one machine gun they were ready for anything.

Spike and Buffy hit the 12th floor… they kept running. Spike pushed ahead in his fear but Buffy was never far behind.

The elevator hit the 8th floor.

Drusilla took the catatonic Angel from Lindsay. She held her new soon-to-be Childe gently with one arm as she raked bloody fingernails across Lindsay's chest for hurting Angel – only she was allowed to do that. Only a mother was allowed to punish their son when they were naughty and Dru was Angel's new mummy. He crumpled to the floor in pain as four stripes of scarlet began to seep through the expensive cotton shirt. Crawling backwards Lindsay distanced himself from the irate demon holding back the whimpers as he went. Drusilla began to hum softly, a quiet old English tune that her mother had sung to her… well, before Angelus had gotten his claws into them. She stroked Angel's hair, her wide eyes looking over his inert form with something that came close to psychotic affection.

The hooded figure in the midst of black Kevlar raised its head and focused on the far door. The vampire detector nodded to the captain and then drifted into the ether, leaving the troops to deal with what was about to come through the door. He didn't want to face the leather cloaked death that was fast approaching the emergency exit.

They reached the 19th floor and Spike began to pick up speed. He pushed his body to its full demonic potential and Buffy could barely keep up with him. He was silent. Each movement he made was fluid and economical. He took the corners of the stairwell without slowing down, using his arm to pull him around. Buffy was copying his technique to the letter but despite the belief that she still held about her being Angel's one true love, she still was not driven by the same desperation that was driving Spike. She couldn't feel what he could. She couldn't feel her family line extending. She couldn't feel the blackness that stretched before Spike at the idea of losing Angel. He pushed harder, almost wrenching his arm out of its socket as he turned another corner. He could hear his muscles protesting at the abuse, but at the same time, his blood was singing with the idea of family. A larger family… more demons to play with. His blood was driving him further up the stairwell.

The elevator reached 17 and Cordelia smashed her hand against the wall in frustration. Willow and Tara began to focus all their power, hands wound tightly together as a golden fog began to settle on the edges of their sight, and Gunn was spinning his axe rapidly as his nerves built to a deafening crescendo.

Drusilla's fangs stretched themselves growing to full length. Small ivory daggers hidden behind a wicked plum smile. They lengthened and sharpened and the saliva began to pool in her mouth. She licked her lips and pulled Angel closer…

Five… four… three… two… one…

Crossbows let their bolts loose with a 'twang' of tightened twine and there was a round of automatic fire… The fire exit door burst open spraying wooden shards everywhere… The lift doors opened and a bolt whistled away from a bow followed closely by a stream of violet light…

Fangs ripped into flesh and blood began to pump lazily into the waiting mouth.

Two had fallen to the brunette's crossbow, five to the Slayer's fists, six to the furious vampire and eleven were being held by a force field of raw power. The human members tried to crowd the vampire but he outmanoeuvred them. He twisted and turned, spinning and jumping and rolling. The demons were the focus of his rage. The Slayer took those he left behind. Wolfram and Hart has always been an equal opportunity work place. They did not discriminate on account of gender, disability, ethnicity or species. As such they could assure that they got the best possible candidates for the job. Their main core Special Ops team was no exception. It was made up of both demons and humans and all were trained to be the best that money could buy. Yet, even the best of the best can be whittled down by a war on two fronts. Especially when both fronts were fighting with a desperation that not many people ever had to suffer.

Spike and Buffy worked as the perfect team, he avoided the humans and attacked the demons whilst she avoided the demons and attacked the humans. Both were blurs of motion, swirls of black leather and golden hair were the only distinguishable features of both of them. Spike was a hurricane of pure demonic fury. The imprisoned vampire within him was rattling its cage for the possibility that it may lose the Sire that it had worshipped for so long and the ability that it was given to create a chaos that it had missed. He was cutting a bloody path the likes of which he hadn't done since he was by Angelus' side a century before. Demons fell in pieces at his feet, spilt by hands, fangs and feet…

Willow and Tara tossed bolts of power around as casually as Gunn swung his axe. Cordy and Wes were working as a well practised team taking on a Polgara demon – Wes would swing his sword high and Cordy would swing low then both would dance out of the way. Riley, Xander and Giles were dealing with a group of twelve vampires and dust clouds surrounded them as they fought. Each and every person gave everything that they had to get to that room. It didn't matter what had gone before, none of the jealousies that had been present were felt now… a human life was at stake and if they didn't save it, more than one life would be destroyed. So they gave it their all and prayed that it was enough.

A small smirk began to curve on the lips of Holland Manners and Lilah Morgan. As more blood began to slip between Drusilla's lips, Angel took more and more steps towards them. They were going to restore his soul but… they were going to restore it on their terms. The Senior Partners were going to be very happy with this… they would have their agent for the Apocalypse. For the three lawyers in the room, their futures at the firm were looking all the more secure… although Lindsey's personal future wasn't looking that great… Lindsay hissed as the gouges in his chest began to burn… Angel's blank, lifeless eyes began to quiver shut as more blood lazily pumped into Drusilla's waiting mouth…

There were less than half of them left now. All of the humans were on the ground… half of them were dead, the other half were severely beaten, bruised and bloodied. The vampires had fallen back to the contingency plan and had retreated to the inside of the greenhouse whilst the Fiorals and Polgaras held off the marauding friends. They had been the elite, now they were in tatters across the roof floor. The only thing in the way of them and imminent failure were the 17 vampires that had backtracked to the greenhouse.

Spike watched out of the corner of his eye as they thinned the herd. Buffy was a powerhouse of motion, nothing was getting out of her path intact. The only problem was that they weren't getting any closer to Angel… and Darla. The few remaining Wolfram and Hart troops were managing to keep them pinned to the side of the roof that they entered on and that wasn't a good thing. He watched with increasing worry as the humans amongst them began to tire. A demon would only have to get one good shot in and someone would die. None of them were used to fighting for ten minutes straight and it was beginning to show.

Spike shook his head as a high pitched buzz rang through his ears. Momentarily distracted, a Fioral demon managed to get a good hit in. Spike went down, but managed to tuck and roll at the last second; saving what little face he had left. As he came up swinging, eyes glowing a vicious yellow, the buzzing turned into the static crackle of a long range radio…

Spike

He blinked and followed it with a one two punch to the Fioral that had managed to down him moments before.

Spike!

That time he was definitely sure that he had heard a voice. Curious thing was that it sounded a whole lot like Willow and it was ringing around in his head. It was as if she was trying to telepathically connect to him…

Of course I'm trying to telepathically connect to you!

Shocked by the appearance of Willow in his brain, alongside the piece of tin courtesy of the Initiative, Spike actually jumped. In doing so, he avoided a low blow from the demon he was dancing with. A blow, which had it been successful, may have taken him out of the game…

Red?

Yeah… Look, I am not sure how long I can keep this up so listen. About twenty vamps have just gone into that greenhouse… you need to get in there now!

Spike glanced over to where she had indicated. He'd noticed that the vampire numbers had begun to dwindle, but he hadn't realised that they had retreated purposefully.

How? There's still a good number of nasties 'tween me an that place!

Go after three… 1…

Spike forced his body into a flight position. Commands from his brain sizzled their way down every synapse. They collected the pain that he was suffering from the numerous bruises and the cracked ribs and transported them to his adrenal glands. His blood began to pump faster and faster… adrenaline and anger and fear and pain rocketed around his body… He was a coiled spring and he was ready to let loose…

2…

Willow wound her fingers through Tara's. Gripping her girlfriend's hand tightly she began to pour her energy into Tara and felt the blonde witch doing the same. They focused the building torrent on the space between their ally and his goal. They focused… a low whirring spinning through their blood as they felt the power gather…

3!

At the same instant the energy that Spike had stored and the energy that the witches had gathered was unleashed into the world. Milliseconds ahead of Spike a silent, invisible pulse shot through the air. Anything in its way was blasted out of it – be they friend or foe… Nothing stood between Spike and the white door behind which he dreaded to think what he would find. Unable to consider that he pushed his body and burst through the door, sending shards of wood and glass everywhere.

On the floor at Dru's feet was Darla, blood had stained her – or rather Cordelia's - pretty blue cardigan an unattractive shade of brown and by the looks of it, most of her throat had been torn out by Dru's fangs. She had obviously tried to fight it. He didn't blame her – she'd been happy with Angel and his little family. So had Spike. Now that peace had been shattered and it was up to him to salvage what he could. He really didn't mean to, but when he saw the Dru holding Angel up, his eyes beginning to glaze and Dru's fangs in his neck, he let out a vicious growl.

Only Drusilla recognised the growl for what it was…

She glanced up from Angel's neck and smiled around her fangs at her Spike. His human features melted back into place and she smiled sweetly at him and dropped Angel's almost dead body to the ground. Spike could already smell the death that clung to him. Angel had about a pint of blood left in him. He was in an in-between place and unless Dru began to drink more he still had time. Time for Spike to get him out of here and to a hospital. He could hear the wet gasps that Angel's parted lips were making as he tried to hold onto as many seconds of life as he could manage and ignored them, choosing to turn his attention to his Sire.

"Do you like Mummy's new family Sweet Willie?"

Dru moved away from Angel and towards to her first Childe. As she did so Lindsey began to move towards Angel's prostate form. Spike didn't try to help the second growl that escaped his lips as his eyes started to change and Dru let out a tinkling laugh.

"My Spike doesn't like you. He doesn't want you near his Angel. Miss Edith told you that only Mummy was allowed to play with him."

Lindsey glanced quickly at the newcomer but he was well informed that Spike couldn't hurt a human being – which was what Lindsey was still… if only in name. However, the files that pertained to Dru's viciousness when it came to her Childe were not to be ignored and so he decided that he should probably keep his mouth shut for once. Instead he meekly backed away from the catatonic Angel and moved towards Holland and Lilah. Drusilla turned from Spike and cradled Angel gently in her arms as she kneeled on the floor. She stroked his hair and over the planes of his face and over his unseeing eyes with so much reverence and care that it had to be seen to be believed. Spike was far from relieved by the turn that his Sire seemed to have taken. In fact it worried him all the more, as she had been like that with him before she had turned him. He knew that of all of Drusilla's obsessions, Angel had been her greatest one. It had taken him a while but he had worked out it was not all to do with him being her Sire, it was to do with the way he had treated her… he had made her a totally new creature and as such she saw him as her God. She worshiped his evil and would have followed him into Hell or Heaven had he wanted her too.

Now she had the chance to own the creature that she had wanted for so long but never been able to have and Spike knew that she wouldn't give up a prize like that easily. Didn't mean that he wasn't going to do all in his power to get her to walk away with Darla as her only trophy.

"Dru, Pet… Give him to me."

He used his most soothing voice. It was amazing how easily it came back to him. He'd used such a voice for years and now he needed it and it was there. Unfortunately it didn't get the response from Dru that he was used to. Yellow eyes flashed and teeth were bared in a drawn out hiss and Spike hurriedly back pedalled. He knew that she wasn't going to hand Angel over easily but he was quite prepared to go the long way round if he had to.

Unfortunately for him, the long way round meant the twenty or so vampires that got in there before him. In seconds he had taken out four of the weaker vampires, but there were still thirteen of them and only one of him. Plus, he wasn't too sure about the humans in the room. They hadn't done anything yet – probably because they knew that Dru wouldn't play nice if they hurt him, but that didn't mean that they were going to stay out of this. A well timed roundhouse kick sent him spinning to the floor.

Spike landed just a few inches from Darla's dead form. Some cultures say that the last thing that you see before you die is permanently imprinted on your retina, like an eternal negative. Spike fancied that he could see Angel's traumatised face in Darla's lifeless grey eyes and reached out a blood covered hand and shut her eyes. He knew that he should dust her before she could rise, but the steel toed boot in his side reminded him that he had other things to think about at present. As he flipped himself to his feet he noticed Dru sink her fangs into Angel's torn throat.

Spike let out an ear piercing howl…

The battle outside the small wood and glass structure still continued but it was waning. There were only five demons left and they were on the verge of collapse. Three went down within seconds of each other; one felled by Gunn's axe, another was taken out by Cordelia and Wesley as their swords lacerated its neck and chest and the third received a bolt from Xander's crossbow through the eye. By the time, the third had hit the floor, Spike's scream of fury and fear was heard by all.

"All of you GO NOW!"

Buffy pointed towards the greenhouse and motioned for all of them to get in there as quickly as they could. She didn't wait to see if they followed her commands but she started on the remaining two demons. The Fiorals didn't really stand a chance. Buffy was desperate and in her desperation she was all the more deadly.

Gunn and Wes were the first to reach the small structure and they immediately staked the first two vampires they came to. Riley, Xander and Cordelia were hot on their heels and between them dusted another two vampires. There were only another nine still standing not including Spike and Drusilla. Cordelia stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Dru with her fangs embedded in Angel's throat and was tackled to the ground by a snarling demon. Willow and Tara worked in tandem to pull the blood lusting vamp off of the seer whilst Anya and Giles joined in the fray. The arrival of the extra people meant that Spike could pull out of the main battle and focus on Drusilla.

Angel was only dimly aware of the roar of the battle around him. He couldn't really hear anything over the thumping of his heart as it tried to pull the last remaining vestiges of blood through his system. All his death glazed eyes could see were images of Darla's last few moments. He could see the despair that was etched into every pore of her skin. He could see the red as it spread across the white skin and blue wool. He could still see the silent plea in her eyes and feel the utter contempt that he had for himself when he realised that he was unable to save her. As the room began to dim all he could feel was utter revulsion at the fact that he had failed the one person he had promised to protect. He was a failure. His final act in this world would be one of failure. Gladly, he let the darkness come, willing it to black out the image of Darla's lifeless and bloody corpse.

Spike watched in horror as Dru withdrew her fangs from Angel's neck and moved so that she had easy access to his mouth. He could hear Angel's heart slowing to a stop, barely beating now as he waited for death to come and claim him. Spike knew that this was the time, this was the confrontation that he had been dreading. Never in his existence had he imagined that he would be in a position to try to take from his Sire. It wasn't done. He didn't always follow the Lore, but he was always faithful to his family. Now he had to betray that core part of himself. Slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, he moved forwards. He was within feet of Dru and her prey when a solid and heavy implement collided with the back of his head. He whirled and saw the young man, his prosthetic arm aloft and ready to crack down on him. Not thinking, Spike lashed out and as his fist impacted on Lindsay's cheek, he doubled over in pain. He crashed to his knees, clutching his throbbing head in his hands, sobbing at the pain the thousand electrical impulses flickering through his brain, causing a migraine like no other anyone had had before. Always one to strike a man when he's down, Lindsay backhanded him, hard, with his heavy clay fist.

Dru heard her Childe's howl and turned from the action of slitting her wrist in time to see Lindsay's third blow impact on a dazed and vulnerable Spike. Howling in fury she released Angel and threw herself at the brunette lawyer, violently tossing him the full length of the gazebo. A contorted snarl replaced her delicate features and she launched herself at Wes and Gunn who had made their way to her would be Childe. She was seeing attacks on every front and ripped the heart out of one Wolfram and Hart vampire before it could get anywhere near Angel's vulnerable form. She was a mother protecting her cubs and she was rabid with her fury. Each of the LA gang and the Scoobies tried to get near Angel and each found themselves meeting an unforgiving portion of Drusilla's anatomy, be it her feet or her fists. Cordy, Wesley, Xander, Anya, Willow, Giles and Tara ended up in an ungainly heap on one side of the room with Drusilla viciously battling Gunn and Riley on the other.

Spike pulled himself off the floor in time to see Dru toss Gunn through a pane of glass and deliver a deadly snap kick to Riley's abdomen, only his flack jacket saved his life. The world seemed to lose all sound and speed as he realised that there was nothing now between Drusilla and her prize. All colours left the world and condensed into the crimson line that appeared across her breastbone. He watched as she moved, so slowly, to pick Angel off the floor. She moved even slower as she pulled him to her, the viscous fluid making a unhurried cascade over her milky skin. She pulled Angel even closer, his lips just millimetres from the font of sanguineous sap that would guarantee eternal life – the soulless life that he knew Angel didn't want. There was nothing that Spike could do now – he was too far away. He wouldn't get there before the blood hit Angel's lips and the second that it did the change would begin and then they would either have to let Dru turn Angel or let him become a wrath and Spike couldn't bear the idea of that happening. Wraths were not pretty and not easy to kill. Angel would be trapped between life and death and would have to burn alive to be killed… at least if he was turned they could soul him…

He watched as the blood dripped lower and lower and… Drusilla exploded into ash…


	15. Familiar Faces at the Off Ramp

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Chapter 15 - Familiar Faces at the Off Ramp

As the dust settled, Buffy knelt down beside Angel. Blood was pouring out of the deep tear on his neck and pooling on the floor around him. She could feel it leaking through her fingers as she applied pressure and seeping through her trousers. As the smell of blood grew she knew that there was no way Angel could survive this. He hadn't even been human for two weeks and already he was dying. She felt the tears flood across her cheeks and started to shake uncontrollably. It took her a few seconds to realise that Cordelia was shaking her and yelling at her to move. Another pair of hands, large, male hands, wrapped themselves under her arms and bodily lifted her out of the way. She hung, limp as a rag doll in Riley's arms and watched as Spike kneeled by Angel's prostrate form. As soon as she realised what was about to occur the world came flooding back in.

"Spike! Hurry! You have to save him please!" Cordelia was sobbing uncontrollably and was being restrained from attacking Spike by Gunn. The tough street fighter had tears in his own eyes as he realised that Angel had been robbed of the world again. Wolfram and Hart had actually brought the big guy down. The world suddenly seemed lacking in heroes. Wesley started pulling a distraught Willow and Tara out of the room. He was not going to lose his friend, his hero.

"Spike, pull yourself together and do it. He has lost a lot of blood and if this is going to work you need to act now! You claim that you're the Big Bad well bloody well act like it! Giles take your car and take Willow and Tara back to the hotel and start to set up for the ritual. We need to do it before he wakes up – we can't risk him feeding, I don't want him to have to carry that guilt. Take Xander and Anya – you may need people to go and get ingredients we don't have. Lorne will help you if you need it; his cell and Caritas' numbers are on speed dials 7 and 8. Gunn, Riley for God's sake get those two out of here. Take Darla's body with you. Get them all cleaned up. Stock up on blood – human and animal – and get food for tonight. Use the company credit card. Leave you're rig Gunn – it'll be easier to get Angel into. Move now!"

Whether it was the fact that he was the only to take charge or the tone of voice that broke no arguments it didn't matter, the room was clear in seconds. Gunn didn't bother telling Wes that Lindsay and the goons from Wolfram and Hart had cleared out and taken Darla with them. Soon it was just Wesley and Spike and the fallen Angel. Spike gently laid himself across Angel's body. He brushed a soft kiss upon the blue tinged lips and whispered, "See you soon Peaches", before sinking his fangs in, directly over the bite that his Sire had made. A few swift pulls and he felt Angel's heart slow to the point of no return. Tears in his eyes he glanced up at the watcher, he ran a sharp nail across his throat and as he did so said "Don't let him hate me." He waited for Wes to nod and pulled Angel to his throat. After a few eternally long seconds he felt the indescribable sensation of his blood being pulled from his body and he began to fly.

As carefully as they could they lifted Angel's body and carried him to Gunn's pick-up. Spike climbed in the back with his new childe. His only response to Wes' raised eyebrow was a low growl that could be interpreted as nothing other than the territorial and protective warning that it was. Wes swallowed a gulp, nodded briefly and climbed into the driver's seat. He gently pulled out of the parking lot, driving back to the Hyperion as carefully and safely as possible knowing that if Gunn didn't kill him for damaging his baby, Spike definitely would for risking his childe. Glancing in the rear-view mirror he had to smile. Despite the tragedy of losing his life, it looked as though Angel would never be alone. He flicked his eyes back to the road and away from the 'Big Bad' who was holding his childe, gently tracing a finger across the plains of Angel's face.

Angel opened his eyes and found himself standing at the middle of a road. Directly under his feet was the junction of a cross roads. The world around him was a hazy mix of blues and golds and the only definite shapes were that of himself and the road beneath his feet.

'Great, I'm dead and the white light is a freckin' junction!'

Angel looked around. There was nothing but and empty barren space and the four roads. There was nothing to tell him where he was or what he was meant to be doing. The silence was oppressive and, still being angry at himself for letting Darla die he decided to break the stony silence.

"What? Are you Bastards that Be too busy to just send me to the afterlife? You screw me around during my life and now you can't be fucking bothered to get off your omnipotent asses and bump me off the mortal coil! Well that's fan-fucking-tastic! In case you hadn't guessed I'm pissed. I'm meant to be done, dead, over! I've been drained! For god's sake just let me go! What am I meant to do here – eenie meenie minee mo? Pick a road? Start wa…"

"That's exactly what you're meant to do boyo"

"Doyle?"

And there he was just as Angel had seen him last. Dark brown trousers, burgundy shirt covered by the battered brown leather jacket that was as much Doyle's trademark as Spike's duster was his. He hadn't changed at all. Short dark hair that made his eyes seem a brighter blue than should be possible. Needing to know and unable to resist doing so he reached out to touch Doyle's face. Feeling real skin and solid flesh beneath his fingertips Angel finally let out the breath that he had been holding since he heard those lyrical tones that evoked so many memories. Memories of family, friends and home wash over him creating a tidal wave of emotion. One emotion though took hold and Angel balled his fist and hit Doyle right on the jaw with perfect timing and aim. Not giving Doyle the chance to get a word in Angel let rip with everything that he had wanted to say to Doyle and had never had the chance to.

"You stupid little idjit! It was meant to be me that died – not you! You don't get to hit me and die! You left us! You gave Cordy the visions and they are killing her! I was the champion, I should have jumped, and I should have saved you!"

His shouting soon turned into tears and for the first time since the event, Angel grieved for his friend. That was a foreign concept; him grieving for a friend. He had seen people die, killed and he had died himself – three times, but he had never lost a friend before. He sank to the floor and sat their in utter disbelief. Doyle didn't respond to the punch or the vicious words that were aimed more at Angel than at him. Instead he just chuckled and said, "Let me tell you a little bedtime story."

Angel's head shot up faster than should be allowed; the speed of the movement should have snapped his neck. Those words. Some of the first words that Doyle spoke to him. A bedtime story that changed his life, as much as Darla and a Kalderash Elder did. Tentatively reaching out and praying to everything and its mother he replied softly, "But I'm not sleepy."

Doyle smiled that little half smile Angel had missed so much. When Doyle began speaking Angel paid more attention than he did before, knowing how precious time and friends really are now.

"Once upon a time there was a vampire. And he was the meanest vampire in all the land. All the other vampires were afraid of him; he was such a - bastard. Then one day he's cursed – by gypsies. They restore his human soul. And all of a sudden he is mad with guilt. You know: 'What have I done?' You know, he's freaked."

Angel can't help but smile, reliving the memory. He decided to keep the game going, wondering if Doyle would deliver the same message or would have forgotten – death could do strange things to a person after all. "Okay. Now I'm sleepy."

"Yeah, well, it's a fairly dull tale. It needs a little sex, is my feeling. So sure enough: enter the girl. Pretty little blonde thing. Vampire Slayer by trade. And our vampire falls madly in love with her. Eventually the two of them, - well, they get fleshy with one another. Well, I guess the technical term is perfect happiness. But when our boy gets there, he goes bad again. He kills again. It's ugly. So when he gets his soul back for the second time, he figures hey, he can't be any where near Miss young puppy eyes without endangering them both. So what does he do? He takes off. Goes to LA. To fight evil - and atone for his crimes. He's a shadow, - a faceless champion of the hapless human race."

Doyle stopped for a moment and glanced at his friend. The last time he'd said those words he'd thought that he had years ahead of him. Truth was, he'd barely survived six months. Now saying them again he knows that he has eternity – but the figure in front of him, the demon that made him believe that real heroes did exist, doesn't. He has a short time and an enormous decision to make. Doyle pulled himself together and carried on.

"Then the star of our piece entered his life. An Irish rake who reminded the vampire of his human self. Now this handsome lad was much more than meets the eye – he was a hero, he just didn't know it yet. He's cursed and needs a hand, so he digs the vampire out of hiding and puts him to work. Their first case they rescue a homely little thing – a real princess with a heart of gold. They become a team and more than that they become friends. A little family fighting the good fight. But the thing about the good fight? Ya never know 'til you've been tested. They were tested and our star realises that his mission was to save the vampire, to keep him fighting, to get him to care. He succeeds."

Angel's tears ran silently down his face as he looked up at the man who was his first real friend and he realised that everything that Doyle has said is true. Doyle saved him in all the ways that really matter – saved him from the loneliness and the guilt that destroyed him before. Doyle stopped him from vanishing and gave him a family that Angel loves more than anything on the earth. Doyle gave him a reason to fight.

"Working it out are ya? Seen the bigger picture yet? Ya think that 'cause you started to fight, cause ya danced with the devils at Wolfram and Hart you caused all that pain with Darla. Thing is… you didn't. The Powers did. Now 'fore ya start yelling and fighting hear me out. Lawyers woulda brought her back a vamp, we didn't let 'em. We had our reasons and we needed ya to fight for her and this kinda guaranteed it. See there's this little thing called the apocalypse and its comin'. It's so close that ya can smell it. Well, you've read the scroll – Vampire with the Soul – pivotal figure. Gotta say that I don't envy ya that. What's that ya thinking? 'M not a vamp no more. Yeah see here's the part where you get to choose. And Angel – make the choice you want yeah? Not the one you think ya should give."

Doyle made sure that he held Angel's gaze on this. It was vital that Angel made the right choice here. For all concerned. Whatever Angel chose, Angel had to want. Want with all of his heart and soul – otherwise it wasn't worth it. A lot rested on the guy in front of him and Doyle didn't envy him one bit.

"Like I said at the beginning; pick a road."

Doyle waved his arm and as Angel watched in awe, each of the roads took a form. Details emerged from the ether, giving each road a personality, an individual style… and obviously a meaning and… a purpose.

The one to his immediate left became a dirt path, strewn with small stones and lined with deep grooves from what could only have been cartwheels. It looked like the type of road he used to play on when he was a boy. It was dusty and uneven and homely. It was a gentle and welcomed reminder of Ireland. It was even accurate right down to the cobalt grey sky and the heavy clouds that hung their. As he turned to face it he felt a cold but gentle breeze sweep over his face and he fancied that he could smell the homely light sea salt that had always been present throughout his childhood.

The second road, the one directly in front of him, had the form of a normal sidewalk. There was newspaper and litter on the ground and a bright street lamp flickered over head. Chewed gum was stuck to the pavement in little splashes of white and there was the smell of fresh rain and garbage. Wisps of steam curled up from grates and gave the street an early morning mist. Tall monolith shadows of buildings rose on either side of the street; the sky was nowhere to be seen. It was LA and it was dark and it was the other home in his incredibly long life.

The third was dark and as Angel looked closely he realised that it wasn't a path at all. It was a raging river of blood. It frothed and foam and surged violently along its path. It crashed into its banks. It took him a few moments to realise that the banks were stacks of corpses, putrid and rotten. Severed limbs kept coming detached from the banks and were pulled away by the strong current. They bobbed along in the water as the waves stripped the flesh from the bones. The smell was the most overpowering thing that he could remember smelling and his head was filled with the sounds of flesh being ripped and torn. Even more sickening though was the gurgling noise that the river made… it sounded like drinking.

The final path was very different. A thin river of blood ran down the centre of a road that blazed a brilliant gold. The river was calm, more like a babbling brook. It was peaceful and almost picturesque. The light was soft and warm and like the hazy sunshine of autumn and it danced round the river, weaving in and out of the blood at will. Despite the bloody stream, this path was as peaceful as the country lane. It was certainly warmer.

After taking in all aspects of each road he turned back to Doyle and pinned him with a look. "Is this you're final job with me? Guide me to my chosen path? Because if it is I think I'm going to need a little more information than these pretty pictures. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but I don't want it to be worth a thousand lives."

"It's good to see that you've learnt that it's not as straightforward as good and bad. Ok here goes. Just listen to it all and remember that each path carries a cost. Right then, road number one – it's the past. The Powers' will put you back in time. You'll be Liam again and you're family and village will be spared the pain of Angelus. You'll live the life you would've if ya hadn't met that blonde bit a-stuff. Catch is, Angelus will still exist – ya can't stop that, and a life'll have to be taken from you're past in order to balance the magicks.

Road number two is now. You get to be human again but here in this time. Catch? You won't be allowed to go anywhere near your friends, they won't remember ya and ya won't be allowed to help in the good fight. Well, any more than the average mortal can.

The third? Innit obvious? What did ya think'd happen when that mad cow drained ya? Ya think that you're friends'd letcha go without a fight? Not likely! They had Spike finish the turning. Here you get to be a real vampire – the true childe of William the Bloody. Think you can guess the catch.

And lastly, route number four. Vampire with a Soul. Pro to this time – secure soul and only as much guilt as you give yourself. Con – you'd hafta become a Seer for another champ.

Before you decide bear this in mind – just because you choose what seems to be the most virtuous path it doesn't mean that it'll all work out good. You could become a real vamp and the good guys will still prevail. Shansu was wrong. This choice was the reward – becoming human to get this chance at a new life. What you choose won't guarantee an outcome; it'll just make some more probable. Not everything is written in stone. People still gotta have free will – makes prophecies kinda tricky. That's all I can give ya man, dunno any more. It's up to you now."

Angel sat down in the middle of the junction and thought. This wasn't a guarantee of anything – just a chance to lead a new life, which ever he wanted. And he knew what he desperately wanted. He just didn't know if he was selfish enough to take it. He ran the whole conversation over in his head several times to see if Doyle had helped him out in other way. Finally it clicked and he knew which path he was going to choose. Doyle had told him all he needed to know to make the right choice.

He stood up and faced his lost friend and smiled. He didn't need to tell Doyle, he already knew. The twinkling blue eyes knew everything that Angel was about to do and they glowed with pride. Pride at having a hand in the creation of such a creature. He'd never doubted Angel and knew that Angel would work it out and do the right thing. Angel reached over pulled Doyle into a hug, brushed a light kiss across Doyle's lips in unspoken gratitude. Unspoken as he knew he could never really repay the debts he owed Doyle. He straightened, turned and, without a backward glance to the friend that he had to leave behind, he set out on his chosen path.


	16. The Waiting Game can Actually be Lost

Chapter 16 – The Waiting Game can actually be Lost

Spike and Wes made it back to the Hyperion with little incident. What they found on entering could only be described as barely contained chaos. In the centre of the lobby was a make shift bed, a mattress had been pulled from a near bedroom and there were soft sheets and a pillow dumped unceremoniously on top of it. The reception counter and the floor in front of it was covered in magical paraphernalia. Most important was the Orb of Thessulah that sat upon a red velvet cushion, doing a magnificent impression of an oasis of calm. Books covered every available surface. On the sofa were more blankets – looked like some one was staying down here tonight. The TV and DVD player had been pulled into the lobby. Pizza and Chinese take out perched precariously on the bottom of the stair balustrade, underneath was bags of soft drinks and various sugary snacks.

Spike carefully laid his precious cargo upon the makeshift bed and began to pull off the bloody shirt that Angel was still wearing. Spying Xander hovering Spike called over to him, "Oi! Whelp! I need you to go up to Angel's room and find him another top. Get rid of this one while you're at it."

Xander glared at Spike, not wanting to take orders from the Evil Dead he contemplated refusing. A low growl swiftly changed his mind. Without a further word or even look at the blonde demon he scooted up the stairs and away from that penetrating blue gaze. As Spike turned his attention away from the boy and back to his childe he caught Riley's eye.

Within a few seconds he had identified that this boy would be the greatest threat to the new fledgling and knew that chip or not, if soldier boy so much as looked at his Childe in the wrong way, Spike would rip him apart. Slayer be damned. He felt a presence at his shoulder and whirled ready for the next threat to his Angel. It was just Cordelia. She had a bowl of warm soapy water that smelled of lavender. The scent began to work on him and he found himself relaxing. Only to tense up again when the Cheerleader moved to clean Angel. Snatching the cloth from her hands and giving her a flash of fangs he made it clear that he was the one, the only one that would be caring for Angel. As the wary girl backed off he began to clean his Angel, running the wet cloth slowly over the creamy white skin.

Wes watched Spike with avid interest and quickly surmised what he believed to be wrong with the vampire. When he had turned and focused all of his attentions on cleaning Angel and making him comfortable on the bed Wes called the others over to him. Everyone looked exhausted. Cordelia looked worse than she had when Vocah had opened her up to all the visions. Giles, a man he saw as something of a mentor seemed suddenly old. Buffy looked like a little girl and not the world's mainline of defence. Everyone in the room was battle hardened but for the first time they looked defeated. He beckoned them in closer and lowered his voice.

"I think that you should all be very aware of Spike. He has just turned a Childe – not a minion. He has created for himself a companion to keep for as long as he desires and a pupil to train. As such he is going to be incredibly possessive around Angel, especially in the hours before Angel rises. He should calm down when Angel is up and can defend himself. This is, I believe a normal reaction. Just bear with him and tolerate this, it cannot be helped. Just as our grief can't. Do you agree Giles?"

Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Remembering Spike's reaction to the proposed trip, Darla, the fact that Angel was human and the news that Angel was missing he had a horrible feeling that Sire protectiveness was only a small part of Spike's problem. However, keeping a calm house was perhaps the most important thing for the moment. There was little evidence to the rising of a Childe but Giles was sure that nothing good would come should Angel rise to find his Sire dust. Clearing his throat, he nodded and voiced his opinion.

"Wesley is right. The best thing we can do is leave Spike to deal with Angel. Offer him help by all means but don't try to do anything without his consent. Do not start Buffy. I am well aware of your feelings for Angel, we all are, and I know that you don't trust Spike fully but here we have no choice. We need Spike, I dread to think of Angel's reaction should Spike be dust when he rises. They may not normally get on but they were both Master vampires. Now Angel is a fledgling Childe and he will need his Sire and Spike may be the only one who can control Angel. There are too many unknowns here. No one has ever witnessed a Childe rising and as far as I know Angel is the first person to be turned for a second time. We need to tread very carefully."

Giles' soft but firm words struck a chord within each person and they all nodded their agreement. Xander however raised the issue that Giles was dreading when he mock saluted both Englishmen, "Don't worry Watchermen we'll use extreme caution. I never thought that I'd say this but I can't wait for Deadboy to rise, at least then someone will put the Bleached Blunder in his place."

Luckily no one commented about how wrong his assumption was and everyone moved back to what they were doing. Giles did note though that Wesley's demeanour seemed much more withdrawn and the look he gave Giles suggested that Wesley shared his fears, although he had hidden it well. Only time would tell as to whether his fears were founded. He hoped for all involved they weren't. If it was true, if Spike did have feelings for Angel that transcended the Sire-Childe bond there could be a lot of trouble… an awful lot of trouble. Spike would own Angel. There was nothing more to be said than that. He was very glad that he had never let Buffy read some of the more… delicate volumes concerning Vampire Society. He had never thought it truly necessary for her slaying to understand that Childer belonged to their Sires in every way imaginable and, although he had questioned this decision a thousand times, he was very glad that he had made it. Especially as he watched the blonde Slayers watch the two vampires through narrowed eyes. She'd kill Spike if she knew that he was entitled to love Angel in a way that she couldn't.

It had been five hours since Angel had died. Five long tortuous hours where people had not known whether to mourn or just move on. Five hours later and Willow was finally ready to perform the ritual. She'd decided that the best way to ensure that the spell went without a hitch was to cleanse the area around which it would be done. Problem was that the hotel had a history of bad karma and over 50 years of Thesulac infestation, the cleansing ritual had taken more time and energy than expected. Now, however, she was ready to begin. Wesley, Giles and Tara completed the circle. The herbs were lit, the bones cast and now she was ready to give a swift prayer to the Goddess.

Spike had watched the preparations carefully. He knew that although he didn't trust these humans himself, they did care for Angel and there was no way that Willow or Wesley would allow any harm to come from this spell. Yet knowing that didn't make Spike any easier. His mind was conjuring all sorts of scenarios that left him chilled to the bone but there were two that refused to go away and scared him more than anything. He could see it all happening – Angel waking up all soulful and hating Spike more than he had ever done before. From his time spent with Angel over the past couple of weeks, he had learned that Angel had never hated him… Angel had feared Spike hating him and his soul had made it unbearable for him to acknowledge the fact that he actually cared about the obnoxious demon. His other fear was slightly more destructive – for everyone concerned. He feared that they would be unable to perform the curse and Buffy would have to stake his Childe. Spike could live with Angel hating him. It would be hard – especially after everything that they had been through recently, but he could manage it. But, there was no way that he would be able live if Angel didn't. he could already feel the fledgling Childe-Sire bond flaring to life and burning within him. He knew that it wouldn't last though. Angel would open his eyes and feel from Spike, utterly revolted at what he had done. This was the only outcome that he could perceive from this situation. Angel was not going to be grateful. He'd hate him. He'd hate him no matter what the outcome, and Spike wasn't sure that he'd be able to cope. He snapped back to the situation at hand just in time to hear Red finish her prayer to the Goddess.

"…this offering. Blessed be." Willow glanced at her fellow casters and then at the other occupants of the lobby. Her eyes lingered on the inert form in Spike's arms and she swallowed a big gulp of apprehension. She knew this spell inside out, and there was definitely enough power between the four of them, yet she had the most horrible feeling that something wasn't right. Shaking it off she smiled at Buffy and Cordy who were sat together. Who would have guessed that it would be Angel of all people that would have brought them to almost talking? She calmed herself and began the ritual that she knew so well. Wesley started the chant.

"Quod perditum est, invenietur."

Tara started to move the herb stick back and forth, creating a sweet smelling smoke screen for Willow to chant into. She laced her hand with that of her girlfriend and Wesley and began her chant.

"Nici mort, nici al finitei, te invoc spirit al trecerii. Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte. Lasa orbita safie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul a el…"

"Stop… the … vision… ANGEL! ... road…"

Cordelia came back from her vision to find herself on the floor being cradled by Buffy off all people. Wesley was kneeling in front of her and watching her closely.

"What did you see Cordelia?"

Wesley laid a soft and remarkably cool hand on her forehead, trying to help ease the pain that lingered after the vision. Cordelia moaned at the soft touch and gratefully took the aspirin and water that were being held out to her by Anya. She offered her new friend a weak smile and downed the pill and water. With a groan she eased herself off the floor and sat herself back on the sofa. She could feel them all hovering, waiting for what she had to say. She could practically feel Spike's eyes as she buried her head in her hands and began to cry. Upon seeing Cordy's break down, Buffy's iron tight grip on her emotions snapped and she smashed her fist down on to the counter in frustration.

"We don't have time for this! We need to do the ritual now before Angel rises!"

Wesley turned a cool eye on the ranting Slayer and glanced back at his sobbing friend and then at his dead friend before letting out a weary sigh. He was tired of the hoops that they were being made to jump through and his nerves were feeling frayed as it was. In one night he had lost a friend to Wolfram and Hart and had watched as Angel had had his Shansu stolen from him. He wasn't prepared to deal with an emotionally fraught slayer as well.

"I appreciate the need for us to complete the ritual Buffy, but the Powers don't send visions for the fun of it!"

"They don't want us to do the ritual." Cordelia's voice was so quiet that they would have all missed her words had they not been waiting for them.

"What did you see?"

Cordelia rubbed her hands over her face and wiped away her tears. She tried valiantly to school her features into some kind of calm but the tears fell regardless. Her words, when they came, were soft and unsure and her voice was trembling.

"It was unlike any vision I have ever had. I saw Angel, and he was stood in the middle of a road. There were four different exits that he could take and… he has to choose his path. There was someone with him and he was happy to see them. He has to make the choice; we can't do it for him. The vision was so clear on that. If we make the choice – things will go horribly wrong."

"Cordelia, I am not following you. The Powers don't want their Champion back? I find that highly unlikely." Wes had squatted down in front of her so that he could see her eyes as she tried to answer his question. The eyes that he saw were cold, hardened by grief and disbelief at what was going on around them.

"Believe it Wesley. Angel has been offered a choice in what way his life will progress. We can't do anything."

As they both spoke their voices became all the more soft and unsure. By their next words, they were talking barely above a whisper and the silence that came before Cordelia's final words was as oppressive as a funeral knell.

"So, he might not come back to us?"

"No, he might not."

Spike had lost his child before he had even risen. He pulled Angel closer to his chest in the vain hope that Angel could feel him and would come back to him. He tuned the others out. Their grief was inconsequential. Compared to his, it was nothing. It wasn't even grief. They may have only lost a friend that they had had for a short time. He may lose a part of his life. When Angel turned human it wasn't so bad, at least Spike knew that he was still in the world and he could still see him if he needed to. Now, he may never see Angel again. This was too much to cope with. He buried his face in Angel's neck and he did something that he hadn't done in many years. He cried. He gripped Angel's hair fiercely, buried himself into the death chilled skin and let go of all his feelings.

Buffy, watched with mounting fury as Spike clung to the man that she loved with all her heart. She felt cheated of everything. She had been cheated out of the chance to love Angel the man, Angel the vampire and now she was being cheated out of the chance of holding him one last time. Consumed in her own grief, whirled on the distraught Seer.

"Are you sure Cordelia? Because if this is a game…"

A tear streaked, reddened face glared up at her and Buffy was faced with the tearful yet angry Cordelia Chase.

"Its not! Oh God! How can you even ask me that? After Spike, I am the next person that needs Angel back! He is my best friend and I am not used to having one and there is no way in hell that I am willing to let him go. But this isn't my choice, it's his."

Not wanting to further anger the suffering of Cordy, or of the group as a whole, Tara voiced her dark thought quietly and softly. She had to say it, but, with all her heart she didn't want to.

"Are you sure that the Powers sent this vision and not that Wolfram and Hart? They seem to have a yen to hurt Angel and you said yourselves that they want Angelus. This would guarantee his return."

"I have an answer to that one Crumpet. Princess, give those pipes a little workout for us. How about a little Aretha?"

"Lorne, that's genius!"

"Well I have had a good idea or two in my time Muffin."

Wes blushed at his inadvertent slight on Lorne's intelligence, but his bumbling apology was cut of by Cordy's rushed and less than dulcet tones breaking the silence of the lobby.

"I must confess, that my loneliness

Is killing me now,"

"Ok, reading you loud and clear gorgeous! That vision was one hundred per cent bona fide PTB. No question about it."

There was a long pause before Gunn dared to speak.

"So we have to wait…"

"And hope that Angelcakes wants to come back to us."

All eyes turned to look at the dead man in Spike's arms.


	17. Onwards to Meet that Guiding Light

**Thanks for all the fb... I know that I haven't answered everyone but my RL has been crazybut I promise that I will get around to it... soon! I really appreciate the fb so please keep it coming! mwah x**

Chapter 17 - Onwards to meet that Guiding Light.

The road was longer than Angel expected it to be. Every step he took brought him closer to his goal, but at the same time each step took more effort. It was a challenge. He'd worked that out. He had to have the strength of will and mind to get to the end of this. He had to really want it. Yet all the time the path tried to stop him. His limbs got progressively heavier. His eyes started to droop shut and yawns took a firm control of his body. The very air around him seemed to thicken and he had to force his way through. It was becoming harder and harder to progress on his path.

Not only was it becoming physically harder but also mentally. Around him, flitting in and out of his sight lines, were little images, snatches of his past. He knew they were there to distract him from his path. If he focused on one they would all consume him. He could see flashes of nameless victims, blood and pain. Whips and knives and all manner of nasty objects. He could practically smell the cold cruel metal. Just the sight of them and he could feel their solid weight in his palm. It felt like a missing piece of him had been returned and it felt horribly right… No! It was horribly wrong! He glanced down at his hand and he could see the outline of a small scalpel in his hand and when he squeezed his palm shut, he felt it slice through flesh. He watched as the blood dripped downwards. He closed his eyes and reopened them. There was no knife, no cut, no blood. So if he didn't look then they couldn't exist. He just wouldn't look. He just had to keep forging on.

But the more determined he became the more resistance he felt from his environment. The air became increasingly thick and his limbs became all the more heavier. That wasn't the worst thing though… the worst thing was the sights. More and more images flashed past him. They started to build. In his peripheral vision he could see them gathering like a swarm of locusts. He ignored them and pushed on. He gritted his teeth and forged ahead. The swarm whipped round him like a kaleidoscope of pain and cruelty. It was a swirling spiral of torment created by probably the most depraved mind that had ever existed in the history of both man and demon kind. He knew that Angelus had done these things. In a hazy sort of way, he remembered doing them… But to see it all laid out like that… to see all of the blood and gristle and vitreous fluid that flowed from the torn flesh… to see all of that, all at once… it made the bile rise in his throat. He could taste the bitter acidic fluid that was thick at the back of his mouth and he wanted to vomit. He ran. He couldn't help it. If he kept moving then the ghosts of the past couldn't touch him and he'd get to where he was meant to be. He ignored the thick air and the sharp sting of the lactic acid that burnt at the muscles in his arms, his legs, his neck, his feet, his back… even behind his eyes. He kept moving. They started to move closer to him, trying to physically trap him in a cage of illusions. He shut his eyes and kept running. The faster he moved the faster that they moved… they were always around him and ahead of him and behind him... He squeezed his eyes tighter and clenched his jaw.

He didn't know if it had been there before, but as soon as he shut his eyes he was horribly aware of the smell. He could smell the blood of his past, the putrid rotting corpses that his victims had become. The smell drifted up through his nostrils and stuck in the back of his head. It was like a living creature. In the back of his head the creature took shape and he could see it in the very depths of his mind. It was even worse here. Here, in the dark depths of his mind, in the places that he had even forgotten existed, his mind's eye conjured pictures that were an exaggerated version of the truth. Distorted and perverted by his guilt the images were far worse than anything he had ever done.

He saw himself fucking corpses. Pushing into them, male and female, human and demon – it was irrelevant – thrusting so hard that rotting flesh was shaken from the bone. Hair ripped from scalps tangled in his fingers. Skin and scales ripped and stuck under his fingernails. Hot, sticky cum that wasn't his own washed over his body and suddenly he was the one being pounded into with no care or finesse. Decaying flesh and hard bone gripped his hips viciously. Putrid kisses were pressed all over his skin and forced down his throat. A partly ripped tongue swirled round his mouth and he could taste the rancid blood that still seeped from the wounds. Nails ripped into his back and sides, scrabbling for purchase to allow whatever was behind him to keep up its punishing rhythm. More hands and claws grabbed him, pulling him in every direction. His flaccid cock was yanked around forcefully. His balls grabbed and parted roughly. Tears streamed down his face at the knowledge that he deserved this, and so much more.

With a tortured scream Angel forced his eyes open. Pushing himself forward, using his hands to separate the air in front of him and bat away the images. Doyle had said this was his choice, his Shansu. It wasn't hell, a test. 'I'm not back there, I going home. I'm not there, I'm going home.' Repeating his mantra, holding on to it like a drowning man would a lifeline, he kept going. He had to prove he wanted it, that he had made this choice willingly. He had to keep going. He had to ignore the horrific world that he deserved and keep going.

He could taste the blood in the air. He could smell the salt of tears. Tears of frightened victims taken in back alleys or ballrooms, alone regardless of how many people were in the location they met their deaths. He kept going on regardless, ignoring everything around him. Then the voices started up. Snatches of conversations started as a gentle hum but then they were all rising to form a symphony of horror, it crescendoed to a deafening roar of fear. Occasionally distinct phrases would become louder than the rest blasting through his ears and smashing into his brain. He was sure that the words had been burned into the grey flesh of his brain by the sheer volume. He needed to cover his ears, but his hands were busy fighting off the images.

"_Sir, please, I should return to the party…. Mistress will be wondering... Sir, people might talk. I'll be put out in the streets. My little boy would... I can't lose this job… You're hurting me! … Sir! My son!"_

"_Oh, he'll make a fine dessert, huh?"_

"_Angel, there must be some part of you inside that still remembers who you are."_

"_My mummy ate lemons. Raw. She said she loved the way they made her mouth... tingle. Little Anne… Her favourite was custard... brandied pears…Shhh!... And pomegranates. They used to make her face and fingers aaall red. Remember? Hmm? Little fingers. Little hands. Do you?... Bite your tongue! They used to eat cake, and eggs, and honey. Until you came and ripped their throats out."_

"_Be gone, unclean thing! A demon can not enter a home where it's not welcome. He must be invited!"_

"_The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures..."_

"_Daniel, be of good cheer. It's Christmas!"_

"_The thing I remember most was thinking how artful it was. In the dark, they looked just like they were sleeping. It wasn't until I bent down and kissed them good night that I felt how cold they were. You grabbed me, and I thought who would go to so much trouble to arrange them like that?"_

"_I wanna torture you. I used to love it, and it's been a long time. I mean, the last time I tortured somebody, they didn't even have chainsaws."_

All those voices…

People he'd hurt, people he'd killed, people he'd tormented. All those souls that he had destroyed, families he had demolished – he'd ripped the world apart one person at a time. Now they were going to rip his world into shreds. There was no way that he could keep going. It was too hard. The air was like moving through tar. The screams were creating a hurricane of noise. His legs felt like they were made of lead and they were dragging him down. The spectres of the past were brushing past him now and every time one touched him it burnt his skin. Blindly pushing ahead he stumbled and fell. Landing on the hard path he instinctively curled into a ball and started sobbing. He rocked himself back and forth and the noise and pain built around him. The air got thicker and heavier and it hurt to breathe. Unable to take anymore he looked up at the shades that were haunting him and screamed, "I'm sorry, so, so sorry."

He looked at each picture and heard each word and didn't stop saying sorry. It was then that he realised what was happening. Pulling himself together he put all of his strength into standing up and then just stood there. He let the visions and the sounds and the pain wash over him in a way that he had never done. He accepted everything that was offered to him on this road. He opened his soul and for the first time he embraced his past. He found that amongst the pain there was pleasure, amongst those he'd killed were ones he'd saved, within in the hate was love. He saw his life as it was – without the prejudice of guilt or condemnation. He let go of it all. After an eternity he sank to the ground and continued to let the past come, and the wave of memories lulled him into a deep, dark, heavy sleep.

When he woke up he felt totally at peace for the first time ever. He had to smile – this road, this challenge had been to accept his past not to keep running from it or ignoring it. That was the want part – he had to want to face his past otherwise he wouldn't be able to move on to his new life.

"I knew you'd work it out. My Boy was never an idiot. He could play the fool but he was never stupid."

"Darla? But how? I saw… Dru… She… I tried… I'm so sorry."

Darla reached out and touched the face of the being that had given her more than she had ever deserved. It pained her to see him like this. Her need to comfort him proved that her soul really existed. If she had ever doubted it before she knew that it was there now. She could feel it. It was like a warm breeze that wrapped her up and kept her safe. She could see his soul and it was like the sun – warm and bright – and it was full of the sounds of children laughing. Bright, warm and pure, so innocent and trusting and caring. It was the ideal, it was a vision of pure goodness and she was sure that no one was worthy of seeing such a sight. She smiled at him and put all the love that she felt for him into that smile and the gentle touched on his face.

"Shh… it's not your fault. I had my second chance. I got more than most people. I've seen the world, felt passion, had someone that cared for me. I was happy Angel. You made me happy. You kept me safe and you kept me close. You protected me from the people that could have hurt me the most – you're friends. You didn't let me go. You didn't send me away even when they told you to. You fought for me. You saved my soul Angel."

She forced him to look at her and see that the tears in her eyes were happy. She didn't blame him for a moment. She was grateful to know him and to have been his friend.

"Dru, she turned you. I saw her. You were so scared and I was powerless. She made you drink and you didn't want to and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. Lindsey brought Dru into this. She saw it coming a long time ago, you know. Remember, just before she made Spike? She told me she could be my mummy. I didn't listen to her then. I thought that she was little more than a lunatic. I was very wrong. But you see Angel, the tricky thing about predicting the future is that it involves people. We all have free will Angel. You chose to die for me and help me and I chose to try to live this life."

She stood up and moved away from him. She looked radiant. She was wearing a pale blue robe. Her skin seemed to glow gold from within, as if her soul was trying to break out from her body. She looked like an angel, a real angel, and not the type people had thought him to be. She looked content and peaceful. For a strange reason he felt happy for her.

"I didn't want to be turned. I fought it with everything I had and now I'm here."

"What?"

"I won't rise Angel. The Powers gave me a choice, just like they did you. I promised that I would make the most of the chance you gave me. I plan on honouring that promise."

"What are you?"

"What you were for me – a guiding light. That little bit of inspiration that every lost soul needs. I'm going to help the hopeless. And I'll do it with a song in my heart. I'm sick and tired of being a puppet for Wolfram and Hart, a way for them to play games. I had no choice in being brought back to life but there is no way they are going to dictate my death. Dru won't get the daughter that she so desperately wants and Lindsey doesn't get me. I can't help but smile at that."

"What does this mean? Are you going back?"

"No, that's not an option for me. I help from a distance. Dreams and thoughts and that feeling you get that just tells you everything will be alright."

"I don't understand – how's this possible?"

"You. You saved my life, you saved my soul, and you gave me a chance. You turned me from a monster into a human being Angel and I won't go back to being a monster. You mean too much to me for me to do that to you. My soul means too much to me for me to throw it away. This way, I get to be the hero – even if no one knows it. It's the only way I can thank you."

Angel just stared at her. For a second, he didn't care about his new life – this was more of reward. This was more than he would have dared to dream about. She was… amazing. He got to his feet and approached her. When he got there he dropped to his knees before her. He took her right hand and kissed her palm. Then he stood. His simple act of veneration over, he stood and looked her in the eye. The expression on her face told him that she knew everything that he had been thinking.

"It has been an honour to know you Darla."

"This isn't goodbye My Boy, I'll be there every time you need that little bit of guidance. I'll be there when you dream. I'll be there all the time Angel. You just won't see me. But you'll know."

He nodded. She was right, he would know… there was no way that he wouldn't realise Darla's influence if he felt it and he was quite certain that Darla would ensure that he would know that she was the one pulling the strings.

"I'll know. I won't forget. This means more to me than any redemption."

It was then that he saw it. Just behind Darla was a mirage, a shimmering picture of his destination. His new life. the picture was blurry and the figures were moving as if underwater but, despite the fact that he was not able to see it clearly he knew what was waiting for him just through that swirling vortex. He moved towards it without fear but with a sense of purpose. This was what he wanted, and a small part of him felt that this was what he had been meant for. This was the reason that he had been born, this was the reason that he had been turned and this was the reason that he had been souled and died for Darla. This was his choice and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He felt the heat from it and he heard the voices and he felt right. He turned back to Darla and smiled. Slowly he leaned forward and kissed her.

Just once.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you."

Taking a deep breath he stepped towards the portal. As he felt the heat and image engulf him he heard her say "But he loves you more."


End file.
